The Passing of Time
by ChocoboMuffins
Summary: In the 1940's, when London's streets were a flaming war zone, a young Flora Reinhold was saved during a blitz attack by a boy. After fifteen years, by chance they meet again; her, a bubbly waitress, and him? She's not quite sure. An AU story, Clive/Flora
1. Chapter 1

_Fifteen years ago_

A small girl, no more than six, stood, watching, as the house she'd lived her entire life in, burst into flames. The house where she'd found a kitten, hidden beneath her mother's prized rosebushes. The house where her father would take her outside in the middle of the night, and teach her the names of the stars.

She stood, frozen in place. A flicker of unease went through her, but she brushed it away. Of course Mama and Papa were fine! She was being silly, worrying. Imagine, what they would say! That she was being a baby, and no six-year-old girl should act like a baby.

Suddenly, she felt a tug on her sleeve, and found herself being pulled alongside someone. As she got a closer look at them, she found it was a boy. Not her age, but not a grown-up.

"Quickly!" he hissed. She tried to keep up, really she did, but the whole street was shaking from the impact and she was very tired. It was _way _past her bedtime, she realized.

"My parents!" she cried, twisting out of his grasp and stumbling back to the burning building. She was yanked back forcefully, the boy looking angry.

"We need to get out of here. _Now_." he said harshly.

Another bomb exploded, shaking them both to the core. "In here!" he yelled, pushing her into a shelter and diving in after.

They waited in that poorly made shelter, an orange flash illuminating the darkness every once in a while. They sat there, quietly, before the boy spoke.

"Someday, when I'm big, I'm going to be a soldier and fight in the war. I'll be a hero, you wait and see." his eyes shone, and you could hear the conviction in his voice.

The girl nodded, deciding that if this boy told her something that important, she should probably tell him something in turn. "This is the latest I've ever stayed up." she said confidentially.

He blinked. "What a silly thing to say." he remarked.

She decided she wasn't going to speak to him anymore. Eventually, the boy got tired of this and told her his name. "Clive." he said.

"Flora." she murmured.

The boy–Clive, she corrected, frowned. "You have a strange name."

Flora felt a sudden rush of anger. She'd been worried of this exact thing, and when she had gone to her mother, the woman had told her she had a beautiful name. And it had all been lies!

Clive, seeing her upset expression, quickly amended. "I mean, it's…unique. And pretty." That seemed to do the trick, as she appeared satisfied with his answer.

Soon, it was _way _past both their bedtimes, and they had succumbed to sleep. He woke first, shaking her awake. "I'm going now, okay?"

She nodded, although she wasn't sure where she herself was going to go now. "Okay. Thank you for helping me." she said.

"Yeah. You're welcome."

And he was gone.

**A/N: Okay, yeah, it's short. But, what do you guys think? Do you think it'll be interesting? Have potential? Review and let me know if I should continue this!**


	2. Chapter 2

_1955, London_

"Flora, go check on the customers, will you? Top off the coffee, that stuff," said the manager of Morris's Café.

Arthur Morris was a stout, gruff looking man, but Flora knew he was the sappiest old man alive. He never hesitated to give his employees days off if they had the slightest cough, and would often give his favorite customers free cups of coffee and pastries. Thus, the little shop was barely making it by, but Flora loved the place dearly. From Molly, the middle-age woman with a sharp tongue and who gave best advice on anything, to Rupert, the lanky, clumsy boy who had become the closest thing Flora had ever had to an older brother. They were a family.

Flora quickly tied the apron around her waist in a neat bow while grabbing the steaming pot of coffee in one smooth motion. She was the favorite of many customers, many of them old couples who'd been eating there for years. They knew her as the happy little girl, the one who had no problems. She kept up that front, mostly because it made others happy to know that there were still people who weren't tied up with worries.

For the most part, that was true. She had always tried to see the light side of things, but when it comes to losing your family, there isn't really a positive way to spin it. Normally, she never dwelled on her parents or what her life could have been like if they were still here, but she couldn't help it sometimes. She remembered when that man in the suit had told her, none too gently, that her parents were dead. Smoke inhalation, he had said, so she needn't worry. After, she had stayed with a professor, a kind man, but not suited to be a guardian. Flora was grateful to him, but had no real emotional ties. She hadn't seen him in three years, as the day she turned eighteen she had left.

It turns out it was easier to make all those plans on how she would make it, because in the first year she struggled greatly. She managed much better now, but she had to be careful with money. She lived in a tiny flat, not in a grand new building as she had planned, but an old brick one. It was the only thing she could afford that wasn't actually in the slums. The area was alright, and it was neat and tidy, and it would do for now. Once she finished her courses and became a nurse, she'd have whatever she wanted. The promise of that was what kept her going.

Soon, as it grew later and later, the customers filtering out until no one remained. Mr. Morris looked around at the empty, now cleaned, tables, turning to Flora. "Well, it doesn't look like we'll be getting anyone else. You can leave early, dear. We'll manage fine here."

"Alright. Thank you."

He raised an eyebrow at her reticent tone, but said nothing.

She had just gathered her things when the familiar jangle sounded, signaling a customer had arrived. "Don't worry, Arthur! I'll get this one before I leave," she said.

Approaching the man who was standing at the counter, she cheerfully asked, "Hello, sir! What can I get for you today?"

The man looked up at the sound of her voice, and she found herself staring into the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. They could be beautiful, she thought, had they any life or mirth in them. She guessed he was in his late twenties, and physically he looked young, but you could see he held himself with the wisdom of someone much older.

He cleared his throat, startling her out of her gawking. "Right. Just a coffee."

Flora felt the heat rise to her cheeks, and didn't even bother trying to stutter out a response. She walked as fast as she could without actually running into the kitchen, willing herself to become composed as she poured the steaming liquid into a mug. Something about that man seemed strangely familiar. Maybe he'd come here before? No, that wasn't it. She frowned. This was going to bother her until she could place him.

* * *

><p>Clive Dove did not believe in coincidences. They were merely an overlapping of people's plans.<p>

He believed in planning. He was meticulous, from his daily agenda to his carefully polished, expensive shoes. Italian leather. Only the best would do for him.

That's why he was currently in an extremely bad mood. An important client had just called it quits on a partnership, one that would have made Clive a lot of money. Everything had been going well. To plan, he thought bitterly, until he'd suddenly backed out.

He sped up a bit, reaching the corner street where a single lamp post provided a circle of light. He stood next to the man waiting, two silhouettes in the darkness.

"Want me ta take care o' 'im?" the man asked.

"No," Clive responded, never making eye contact. "I was courteous. I met him myself. I gave him information. And he did not deliver on his side of the deal." His voice remained deceptively calm, no emotion on that careful mask, unlike the scruffy man next to him.

"That slimy little bastard!" the man said, anger lacing his tone.

"Quite. However, since this was a high-end contract, and since I wasted my valuable time on it–"

"Yeah! No one screws with tha boss an' gets away wid' it unha–" seeing the look Clive was giving him, he wisely shut his mouth.

"As I was saying, I invested a lot in this project. I think it's only fair that I pay him a visit."

"When?"

"In the coming weeks. I don't have the time now, and why not let the man enjoy a few more months? I'm a considerate person."

And with that, both men went their separate ways.

* * *

><p>Clive sighed, rubbing his forehead. He needed something to drink. But, as he was trying not to drink as excessively as normal, he would settle for a strong cup of coffee. Not wanting to spend time looking around for some fancy café, he quickly came upon a small, homey looking shop. It would have to do.<p>

A chirpy voice chimed from behind the counter, but it didn't really register until he looked up and saw a young waitress staring rather closely at him. Ordering his drink, he went to one of tables. A few minutes later, she returned, coffee in tow. Taking a cautious sip, he nearly groaned in the relief it brought. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he opened his eyes and saw the same girl looking back with those annoyingly large, doe-like eyes.

"It's fine, thank you," he said, trying to get her to leave.

Not taking the hint, she asked in that annoyingly cheerful voice. Clive refused to believe people should be so chipper. "Do you want any of our teacakes to go with that?"

Couldn't they just leave him alone? "No," he answered, his tone cold and clipped. "If I did, I would have ordered it from the start. Now, be a dear and let me enjoy my coffee. Thanks."

She stood, an expression of shock on her face, before turning on her heel, grabbing the purse that sat on a table, and slipping out the door.

Finishing the last of the cup, he left. He debated going to a bar, but, deciding he should try and sleep for once, he headed home. It couldn't really be called that, as he hardly stayed there, but it was a rather large, posh flat. Most would consider the price he payed for it a waste, especially for one person, but when you had the money, why not? That, he thought, was a good enough reason for just about everything.

As hours went by and sleep refused to come, Clive found himself thinking about the waitress. He had been rude, but he didn't feel guilty. He rarely felt anything these days. She seemed vaguely familiar, but he had no recollection of ever meeting her. Pushing it out of his mind, he got out of bed. No use wasting time trying to sleep, so he might as well work.

Flicking on the light to his study, he immersed himself in the paperwork and plans for his business. By the time the darkness of night had been replaced with the soft, light gray of morning, and he could finally sleep for a few hours, he had all but forgotten the girl.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hi! Okay, some background info here, but also some plot development. What is Clive up to? **

**Haha, I just wanted to say thank you to all who reviewed! It's more than I've gotten for a first chapter, and I am super motivated! Also, a reviewer pointed out that most Clive/Flora stories were like, "Clive gets out of jail, goes to Layton's house, notices Flora's hot, etc..." 100 picarats to you good sir! You are totally right! That being said, I really tried to make an original story for them. **

**What do you guys think? Let me know by dropping a review! **

_Totally unrelated, but did anyone notice the whole 'Arthur' 'Molly' thing? It was totally unintentional, and when I realized the names I chose I was giggling like crazy. My family thinks I'm doing strange things on the internet…_


	3. Chapter 3

Flora gaped at the man's callous words. How dare he treat her like some brainless fool? She quickly closed her mouth. No use wasting another _minute _in his presence, she grabbed her purse and stalked off.

She sighed as she entered her tiny flat, blindly searching for the light switch. She didn't feel like doing any of her assignments just yet, and curling up with a book seemed like a good idea. But as she tried to focus on the characters and their problems, she found her mind wandering. Shaking her head, she pulled off the throw she'd covered herself with.

Sometimes, when she couldn't sleep, she would step onto the small balcony outside her room, jump down to the rickety fire escape, and parade around London in her nightie. She was normally a cautious, level-headed person full of reason, and this was the one careless luxury she allowed herself. Of course, she'd found out the routes where no one would go, and it was quite relaxing to stroll around at night. She would see things she was always to busy to during the day, and by the time she came back to her own bed, sleep would finally come.

It was much too cold for that now, though. She'd have to settle with studying for the night instead. After a few hours of perusing textbooks, her head filled with definitions and medical terms, she stretched, padding back to her bedroom, burrowing beneath the covers, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

><p>Flora groaned as her alarm went off, slapping it with more force than necessary and glared at the obnoxiously bright red numbers. She dragged herself out of bed, quickly getting ready for work. It was a Saturday, but as she was trying to save up, Flora had began taking as many shifts at the café as she could manage. She entered her kitchen, examining her selection for breakfast. There wasn't much, ironically, as even though Flora worked at a restaurant, she herself barely ate anything. Flora kept saying she'd start cooking, but kept forgetting one actually had to buy food to do so.<p>

A glance at the clock and she was no longer thinking about food. Instead, she practically had to sprint the distance to Morris's, the chilly air encouraging her to get to the warm, cozy café as fast as possible.

"Hello, Arthur!" she called, hanging her coat.

He nodded in her direction, handing her a coffee pot and pushing her towards the tables. She passed Rupert, asking, "Want to help me today?"

"If you'd like," he said, a faint blush staining his cheeks.

Flora smiled. "Yup! Here, go get the orders, alright?"

He nodded, nearly tripping as he made his way back to the kitchens. As she walked by the counter, she frowned when she saw Molly look at her knowingly. Flora had come to recognize Molly's various expressions of self-satisfaction when she had something pegged, and right now, it was quite smug.

"Is there something you'd like to say, Molly?" Flora asked shortly.

"That boy is smitten with you," she said confidently.

Flora's response was to stick her tongue out. For all the years she'd been taking care of herself, it had surprised Molly at how childish Flora would act sometimes. Molly had gotten used to it over the years, but it never failed to amuse her, seeing the twenty-one year old acting like she was five.

It was a busy day, and Flora and Rupert were worn out by closing time. As they were heading out, Rupert grabbed her shoulder. "Hey, um, do you want to get something for supper?" he said shyly.

Normally, Flora would have said yes, but what Molly had said was becoming evident. He'd constantly bring her cups of tea, compliment her when she was in her most worn dress with a coffee stained apron on to boot. Flora had though of it as a friendly moral booster, but she blanched at the thought of it being something more.

"Oh, not today, Rupert. I'm completely exhausted, and I think I'll just go home," Flora said as casually as possibly.

The disappointment in his face showed, but he brightened as he spoke, "Well, it was a busy day," he chuckled nervously. "I'll walk you to your flat, then?"

Flora didn't have the heart to refuse his simple offer, and accepted as cheerily as she could. It wasn't so bad, as long as she kept the topic of conversation as far away from her plans for the weekend as possible, and she said goodnight with a quick hug. She wished she didn't see the blush that colored his face before she closed the door.

Throwing off her coat, she went straight to her bedroom, setting out her pajamas. Suddenly, she stopped, standing upright. Less than an hour ago, she'd wanted nothing more than a hot bath and a good night's rest, but now, that idea didn't have quite the same appeal.

_When was the last time I went out?_ she mused. Flora nodded her head decisively. She was going to have fun tonight, and she knew just the person to call.

The phone answered on the second ring._ "Hello?"_

"Jenny, it's Flora. I was wonder–"

_"Flora! Oh, you silly girl, why haven't you called me in like, forever? Ah! We have to do something! Hold on, I'll be there in ten minutes. We are having a night out!"_

She hung up. Flora smiled. The call had gone exactly the way she thought it would.

Jenny Marrigan was Flora's best friend, though many thought the pair to be odd. Whereas Flora was often shy and innocent by nature, Jenny was bold and had made a life-long goal to never sleep with the same person longer than a week. That, she had said, required some seriously mind-blowing sex. But Jenny was always there for Flora, and had kept her from sinking when the stress of things had become to much. And she really knew how to have a good time.

Soon, a frantic knock was heard, and there stood Jenny, carrying several different bags. She didn't wait for an invitation to come inside, and was thrusting clothes at Flora almost immediately.

"Right, so I know you practically dress like a nun," she started, ignoring Flora's indignant 'Hey!'. "So I took the liberty of bringing you some proper night clothes. Yes, dear, it's above the knee. Oh please, these heels are nothing! Flora–stop being a prude and go change!" Jenny said, pushing Flora towards her room.

When Flora emerged, shyly tugging at the hem of the dress. It was black with silver beading, falling just above her knees, and plain black peep-toe heels completed her outfit.

Jenny smirked smugly. "Well, we can finally see your body!"

Flora immediately turned back into her room, but Jenny's foot wedged the door open. "No, you silly girl, not like that! I mean, you look really good, Flora. Really good."

Flora looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror, involuntarily smiling at what she saw. "Congratulations, Jen. I don't look like a, um–"

"Slut?" Jenny supplied helpfully.

"Yeah."

"Well? Come on!"

Flora laughed as she was dragged out her door and into the night.

* * *

><p>That feeling was back. That need.<p>

Clive mentally cursed. He'd gone almost three days without a drink, but it was a Saturday, for Christ's sake, and other than taking care of some loose ends in his business, he had no work. He grabbed his coat, and headed to the first bar he found. Clive went to the counter immediately, ordering a whiskey. The first sip relaxed him, satisfying that old need just enough, to take the edge off of things.

He was well into his third glass when he heard a soft voice order a drink next to him. He did a double take when he saw who it was. That girl! Downing the rest of his glass, he approached her silently. He tapped her shoulder, smirking when she jumped, a small squeak escaping her lips. She frowned when she saw him.

"Excuse me. Is there something I can help you with?" she asked coolly.

"Yes. I'd like to apologize for my behavior the other night, Miss–ah, I don't seem to recall your name."

"That's because I never told you," she said shortly. "And it's fine. So you can go now."

She sipped her drink, refusing to make eye contact. Clive took the opportunity to study her. She was wearing a sleek looking dress, and her legs (God, those legs were glorious) looked long and lean. The girl looked so much more grown-up. She was beautiful.

"Well, at least let me buy you a drink," he offered.

"I have one already, thanks," she said shortly.

"Then let me get you another," he replied without missing a beat.

* * *

><p>Flora would not look at him. She would not let herself see those blue eyes and get sucked in. She was barely managing now, with that smooth voice. She knew he wasn't the type of guy she'd be interested in (guys Flora would be interested in did <em>not <em>go to places like this) but she couldn't help but be intrigued. In the back of her mind, she _knew _she had met this man before, though she had no idea when. She felt a strange feeling of trust towards him. And that terrified her.

The drink he ordered for her arrived, along with whiskey for him. Her father had drank whiskey, she recalled, on Fridays, late at night when she was supposed to be sleeping. He'd gently chide her, sit her on his lap and play soft jazz on their gramophone until she fell asleep.

She blinked, shaking her head. The sudden memory just highlighted the emptiness left by her father's death, and she was surprised at the ache it left. That drink was more than welcome, now.

Finishing that, and the next the man bought her, she felt herself slipping into a strange sort of lull. They hadn't spoken, but she found herself answering his questions.

* * *

><p>Clive inwardly congratulated himself. The girl had a sufficient amount of alcohol in her system so that while she was not flat out drunk, she didn't have the same guard up. He himself wasn't even close to being drunk, just buzzed enough to make sure that what he planned to do would be much more enjoyable, but so that he would still remain in complete control.<p>

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing at a bar alone?" he asked.

She laughed. "I'm not alone. I came with my friend." She paused, thinking it over. "Or, I didn't come here alone. I don't know where she is now."

He nodded. "Alright then, are you going to tell me your name, or are you still mad at me?"

The girl smiled. "Flora. Flora Reinhold."

He froze. That name…

Shaking his head, he returned her smile. "What a pretty name. I'm Clive." He stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

The girl–Flora, he corrected, laughed at his antics, but shook his hand anyways. "Nice to meet you too."

He leaned in, one arm snaking around her waist, her eyes locked with his so that she barely registered the fact. "How about, Miss Reinhold, we get out of this stuffy old bar?"

* * *

><p>Flora knew. Knew it wasn't going to be more than a one night fling.<p>

And she found she didn't care in the least. She wanted this. Flora returned his gaze again, and as if he knew what her answer would be, he gently lifted her up slightly, helping her off the stool. She took a deep breath.

"Yes."

**A/N: Woo! New chapter! So, what do you guys think? Let me know in a review!**

**Again, thank you so much to those who reviewed! I'll be getting these up much faster now!**

**P.S: I am kinda debating writing a teeny tiny lemony bit (not graphic or explicit really) but I'm not sure. I've never really done that. What do you guys think?**

_Arthur and Molly Weasley, of course! It is a sad, sad day when people don't get Harry Potter references._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: READ THIS! Some people wanted a teeny tiny lemony-ish bit, and others adamantly refused. So, if you didn't want it, skip the first section, then continue reading. For those who did, well, read on. I'd like to remind you how totally _NON-EXPLICIT_ this is going to be.**

* * *

><p>"Yes."<p>

Clive smirked at her answer, guiding her slim body through the crowd and towards the exit. He subtly hinted that they go to her flat, and soon enough they were there. No one knew where Clive lived. He found this helpful for two reasons: one, it kept him safe, and two, it made sure he never had to wake up to loud angry knocks and a woman screaming "You _promised _you'd call!"

It was tiny, but very clean and tidy, everything in an impeccable condition, but he wasn't very interested in her choice of decor. She guided him to her bedroom, allowing herself to be pinned to the mattress.

Then, everything happened so quickly. Hot, wet kisses placed on her neck; her hands tangled in his hair as she gasped. Her clothes were made short work of, and not long after, his own joined the pile. She was so warm and soft, his skin gliding over hers, and the way she moaned his name nearly undid him. They collapsed, completely spent, taking deep breaths to steady themselves.

Once she felt she could stand, she threw her legs over the side of the bed, wordlessly handing him his clothes. Clive took them, and within five minutes he was gone. It was a shame, really, that he wouldn't see her again, since that was possibly the best sex he'd ever had.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Flora woke to bright sunlight filtering through the half closed curtains. She smiled sleepily, burrowing herself further underneath the blankets. Her entire body felt warm and languid, and although she had a shift at the café this morning, she brightened at the prospect of a free afternoon. With all her studies and shifts, she rarely had any spare time, and she had forgotten how much she missed Jenny.<p>

Leaving her musings behind, she reluctantly left the warm bed to get ready. Bundled in her coat and the scarf, gloves, and hat the Professor had given her for Christmas the year before, she set out into the cool, brisk, autumn day. Autumn had always been Flora's favorite season, and she took every opportunity to enjoy the scenery.

She arrived at work, her cheeks bright from the cold, and quickly entered the warm, inviting kitchen. Her hand was already out for the coffee pot that she knew Arthur would give, and after her usual, "Good morning, Arthur!" he gave her his customary nod and gentle push towards the front counter. Flora smiled at the familiarity of the routine as she began pouring cups of coffee. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rupert, and cheerily called out, "Hello, Rupert!"

"Hi, Flora," he began. "You, er, left this last night," he said, awkwardly holding out her bag. "I came back after we walked, and I went back to your flat to give it back, but I guess you weren't there."

Flora winced at his accusing tone and felt a rush of guilt. How could she explain that she had refused his offer, but went out with her friend and came back with another man, no less? She turned to him, "Thanks, Rupert! You see, my good friend called, and I hadn't seen her in ages, so I agreed to meet her. She had a fashion crisis, and all that," she said, smiling weakly. _That's probably not going to help convince him, Flora_, she thought.

But poor, trusting Rupert just returned her smile with a silly, warm grin that was completely his own, and told her he was glad she had taken a break and met her friend. "You work too much, Flora," he said.

They'd never be, could never be, more than friends, she realized. They were too much alike; in their quiet natures and shy innocence. Suddenly, she had a brilliant idea. "Rupert! You know, I was talking to my friend, Jenny, her name is, and I think she needs a good person in her life. And," she paused for a dramatic effect, "you'd be absolutely perfect for her!"

It was a bit too forward for Flora, and Rupert looked quite shocked, but the more she thought about it, the more she saw just how true it was. "Actually, she was coming to meet me here for lunch, and she'll be here any minute now."

A jingle was heard in the doorway, and Jenny was sauntering up to Flora, who looked quite smug, and Rupert, who looked like he was about to faint. "Hello, dear," Jenny said.

Flora smiled. "Jenny, this is Rupert. Rupert, this is Jenny."

Jenny, unperturbed, stuck out her hand. "Hello, Rupert."

It took a not so gentle nudge from Flora to get Rupert to move. "O-er, hi," he managed.

"Right then, I think I'll go and finish my school work, Jen. Why don't you and Rupert have lunch, and then we can have coffee later? I forgot that I had so much work," Flora said innocently.

Jenny narrowed her eyes, pulling Flora to the side. "Flora, you are terrible at scheming. What are you playing at?"

Flora gave an exaggerated sigh, then bluntly said, "I'm trying to set you up with him because he's the greatest guy and you deserve someone like him."

Jenny, obviously not expecting that, was stunned silent for once. "You... you what?" she asked, but then quickly regained her composure. Straightening up, a gleam in her eye, she spoke again. "Okay. I'll go with Golden Boy over there, but I bet you by the end of one lunch, he'll be running for the hills."

Flora smirked, then frowned. Since when did she _smirk_? Shaking her head, she looked back at Jenny. "Fine. I bet that you'll actually really like him. But you can't purposefully be so–so…obnoxious!"

"Deal."

And with that, Jenny strode over to Rupert, and practically dragged him out of the café. "Come on, let's go to lunch."

This would be interesting, Flora thought with an amused smile.

* * *

><p>Jenny had chosen a small sandwich shop, and she was currently sitting across from Rupert. The past ten minutes had been torturous, as she had barely gotten two words out of the petrified boy. Her attempts and conversation had failed instantly.<p>

"Well, if you're bored, we can always do something else," she had said with a sly, suggestive grin.

He had dropped his muffin, looking scandalized.

She sighed. Did he have to take everything so seriously?

She was startled out of her thoughts when Rupert cleared his throat.

"So, er, Jenny, what do you do?" he asked.

"He speaks!" she said wryly.

He blushed. "I-I'm sorry. I get nervous easily."

Jenny was surprised at the guilt she felt for baiting him and the need to amend it. "That's not what I meant- I mean, you don't have to apologize. Well, I'm an editor for a magazine."

"That's interesting! I've always wanted to be a journalist," he said wistfully.

"Why don't you, then? I can get you some referrals, if you'd like," she offered.

"I'd really appreciate that." He gave her a small smile.

And she found herself returning it with a genuine smile of her own.

* * *

><p>Flora hummed softly to herself as she cleaned the café. She hadn't any plans for the afternoon, and judging by how long Rupert and Jenny were gone, she would be free the entire night.<p>

"One coffee, please," she heard someone call.

"Coming right up, sir-"

She froze as her warm brown eyes were met with familiar, shockingly blue ones.

"Hello, Flora."

**A/N: It's a bit short, but hey, I wasn't even going to update for another week, so. The amount of homework I have is ridiculous.**

**Also, THANK YOU SO MUCH REVIEWERS! I am so, so happy that you guys have been enjoying it! And a big thank you to Ethera for her Jenny/Rupert idea!**

**So, what did you think of this chapter?**

_Ahahaha, it was so funny to read the comments once I explained the Harry Potter reference. Everyone was like, "OH!" Speaking of Harry Potter, the theme for our Christmas tree this year is…_

_GRYFFINDOR!  
>Pretty darn amazing, yeah? <em>


	5. Chapter 5

He wasn't quite sure what made him go back there, to that tiny, worn café. Maybe it was because it felt more homey and inviting than any house of his ever had, but he knew that wasn't really true.

It was that girl.

That godforsaken, silly, doe-eyed girl. Every since that night, he could hardly keep his mind off her. And it wasn't just the sex, he mused, though that was great. He felt drawn to her. Her void-of-emotion dismissal of him from her bed that night was what he had expected, what he always expected. Clive was only interested in the physical aspect of things, and he should have been thrilled (or as thrilled as someone like Clive could be) that he had found someone who understood what he wanted exactly. So why did he feel a strange disappointment? He barely knew her, and she him.

It's because she looked familiar, he decided. She had a strange warmth that reminded him of someone he knew, long ago, when he was a different person entirely. But Clive had long since pushed those times out. He couldn't afford to be that happy, carefree boy he once was. Not with what he did now. Because that meant feeling.

And Clive wasn't sure he could deal with that.

So that was why he found himself leaning on her carefully polished counter, ordering a coffee, and feeling a strange anticipation to see her reaction.

She didn't disappoint him. A badly stifled gasp escaped her; her eyes wide with surprise.

"Y-you!" she spluttered.

"Aren't you going to offer me, I don't know, cake or something?" he asked in a disinterested voice, ignoring her outburst completely.

"I don't make a habit of making the same mistake twice, actually," Flora said coldly. She didn't believe, not for one second, that he had just come for a friendly chat. And from her tone, Clive was sure she wasn't just talking about offering him pastries.

"My, haven't you gotten better at witty remarks. One could even say my presence has been–ah, what would you say? A good influence," he said with a smirk.

* * *

><p>Flora's temper flared at his words, but she quickly composed herself. She wouldn't let him get to her, wouldn't give anything away. Not until he gave her something in return, at least.<p>

She was about to come back with a scathing retort when her eyes suddenly went wide with realization. _That smirk_! God, she would never admit to it, but that smirk was so incredibly sexy and she'd never seen one so… so–well, _smirkish_. He'd certainly influenced her, though she wasn't sure if it was good or bad.

Flora wouldn't know just how much of an affect he had on her. Not yet.

* * *

><p>Clive nearly grinned when he saw the anger in her eyes, and was ready to get back into their banter. She opened her mouth, but instead of the sharp reply he was expecting, the scowl fell off her face and was replaced by that wide, oh-so-innocent look that made Clive feel guilty for even looking at her.<p>

"That! That's were I got it from!" she said excitedly. "Oh, that would have been bothering me the whole week."

God, she was making it hard for him to stay as that cold, untouchable person with witty, and often cruel, remarks. He looked at her blankly. "What?"

Her eyes snapped back to his, and a look of confusion crossed her pretty features, as though she hadn't expected him to still be there. "Oh, you see, I was with my friend, and I _smirked_! I _never _smirk, and I was wondering where on earth I would have picked that up from, and– why am I telling you this?" she said, her rambling replaced with that guarded, closed-off look that Clive was beginning to hate.

"I'm sorry, _sir._ I'll get your drink right away," she said with a very professional tone.

"Forget about the coffee. But, I wouldn't say no if you were joining me," he called as she made to go into the kitchen.

She stopped, before slowly turning back to face him. "What do you want?" she said, sighing heavily.

She never said his name. Not once, he noted. And he never said hers, unless it was in jest.

Now, he had two options: a) Lie and come up with some of offhand observation that was full of innuendoes that would make her flustered; or b) Tell her the truth.  
>Actually, he was rather shocked that even the thought of being <em>honest <em>came to him at all.

He shrugged, his eyes cast to the floor. "I don't know."

His answer was met with silence, until he felt a soft hand lightly touch his slightly hollow cheek. It was snatched away all too quickly for his liking, and his eyes met her curious gaze.

"You seem familiar. I feel–I feel like I…I've met you before. A long time ago," she said softly.

He gave her a small, half-sort of smile. "How about that coffee?"

Maybe it was because this was the first time she'd seen him do anything but smirk, and though it was small, Flora found it to be so sincere and genuine. Whatever the reason, she found herself agreeing.

**A/N: So, this is the result of a huge project being due on Friday that normally takes two weeks, and I have two days to do it. Gosh darn, I am such a horrible procrastinator. Anyone want to help me with an essay on Occupy Wallstreet?**

**Thanks to the reviewers, all two of you. While I am super grateful for all the support I have had, I was sad I didn't get more for the last chapter. I want to know what you guys think! I want to know your reactions and thoughts, and I want to hear what you think I should add to or improve on.**

**So please, let me know!**

**Oh, and I'll be updating weekly, usually on weekends, though I may update more (like this one).**


	6. Chapter 6

They had gone to one of Flora's favorite coffee shops, just a quick walk away from her flat. She often went to study there on weekends, and the quiet, calming environment had provided the ideal place. Flora knew it was a bit silly, but she credited some of her success in school to that shop; a lucky spot. So, she couldn't help but suggest it when he had asked her where she'd like to go. Perhaps that luck would get her some answers. Somehow, she didn't think Clive was the type of person who readily gave away information.

The sat down with their drinks, quietly observing one another. Clive spoke first. "So, you're a waitress."

She nodded, sipping her foamy drink. "That I am."

"I can't imagine you want to make a career out of it, though. I trust you have something else in mind?"

Flora could tell that he was just trying to make conversation, but he obviously didn't have practice with small talk. So far, everything he'd said, whether intentional or not, had some underlying contempt. She was sure he was making an effort, though, so she wouldn't let it get to her. "Yes, actually. I love my job now, but I don't plan on doing it for the rest of my life. I'm studying to be a nurse."

"Ah. That's a good profession there," he said, nodding his approval, making Flora feel strangely pleased.

"And what about you?" she asked, genuinely curious.

A shadow passed over his face, blue eyes darkened, but it was only for a second before his careful mask slipped back into place. "Law. Hardly interesting," he said.

"On the contrary. My father was a prosecutor, you see. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps, but my heart wasn't in it." She gave a small chuckle. "I guess I don't have to worry about disappointing him now."

"Did he come around the nursing idea?"

Flora blinked. Sometimes she forgot that most people still had their parents. "Oh… oh no. He–well, my parents died. When I was very young, though. I don't remember them much."

It was true. She hardly remembered what they themselves were like, but she had never forgotten that night. She could still see it clearly, practically smell the heavy smoke. And suddenly, she wasn't in the coffee shop with Clive anymore. She was in a dark shelter, terrified, with–

* * *

><p>"Flora?" he asked, concern creeping into his voice. It must be talking about her parents, he decided. She seemed like the type to get emotional over such things.<p>

She showed no sign of acknowledgement to his words, prompting him to call her again. "Flora."

Her eyes, wide with shock, traveled to meet his.

"You," she breathed.

"Excuse me?" Clive asked. He was not often left confused, and considered himself to be quite sharp, but he honestly had no idea what she was going on about.

"I–that night, someone–a boy, saved me. I didn't want to leave, but he stayed and got me away from the fire."

Clive suddenly felt a wave of nausea, realization dawning on him. "You… you were that girl."

"And you were the boy." She looked right at him. "You saved me."

* * *

><p>Once the initial shock had worn off, they finally began to talk. Both agreed the small pleasantries were no longer needed.<p>

"I remember you said you would become a soldier. But you're doing law. Why'd you change your mind?" she asked.

Clive winced. He hadn't forgotten that promise he'd made, yet had completely broken. He wasn't a soldier. They had honor and glory. He… he didn't have that strong sense of morals. Not anymore.

"My father was a soldier. He was killed in the war, and my mother died that night." He blinked, wondering why he had given that bit of information out. He hadn't spoke of that night for fifteen years.

"I'm so sorry, Clive," she said, placing her hand over his comfortingly, fixing her sympathetic gaze on him.

"No need to be. It happened a lifetime ago, or it feels like it. And the same thing happened to you."

"And I know that it still makes me sad to talk about it. It doesn't ache like it used to, and really can help–" she began, but he quickly cut her off.

"We are different people, Flora. I don't need a therapy session. Yes, we've met before, but what do we really know about each other?" he said, his tone had reverted back to being cold, careless. Her silence was all the answer he needed. "Ah. You see that it's true."

"Then let's get to know each other," she said, refusing to be dismissed so easily. He may think that it wasn't of any consequence that they had met again, but Flora couldn't shake the feeling that it had a greater meaning.

He hid the shock her statement had on him, masking his feelings with a sneer. "And what, pray tell, makes you think I want that?"

"Well, don't you think it's strange that we're both here, right now? It can't be a coincidence, a chance meeting!" she argued.

He shrugged. "No, it isn't a coincidence. But it isn't anything more, either. You decided to settle here, I decided to move my company here. We both made separate decisions. There wasn't any 'fate' involved."

"I can't accept that," she replied with a shake of her head. "But if you really don't want to talk, I'll leave right now."

Clive leaned back into his chair, his arms crossed. "Fine. You want to get to know each other? How about we make a game of it?" he said, his eyes glinting with mischief.

She regarded him wearily. "What kind of game?"

"Here are the rules: I ask a question, you have to answer. If you don't, you lose your turn. Same thing for me."

She nodded. "That sounds reasonable."

Flora looked up at him in alarm when he stood up, grabbing his coat. "Where are you going?"

Instead of answering, he handed her coat to her, ushering her out the door. "Come, now."

"Clive, you tell me where we're going!" she demanded.

"I'll tell you when you get inside," he said as he hailed a taxi.

Climbing in, she turned back towards him. "Alright. I'm in. Now can you tell me where you're taking me?"

"Well, if you don't answer a question, you have to take a shot. I'm sure I mentioned it."

Flora glared at him. "No, you didn't."

He shrugged indifferently. "Must have slipped my mind," he said, but when he turned to her she could see he was trying not to laugh.

And in spite of herself, she smiled.

**A/N: Whew! Lots of dialogue in this one! Also, thank you so much to all who have been reading for the 665 hits on this story! **

**So, what did you think of it? Let me know! Suggestions, comments, anything!**


	7. Chapter 7

"I'll go first," Flora said as Clive ordered a bottle of scotch.

"Ask away."

"Alright. I still want to know why you didn't become a soldier like you said you would."

"Pass," he said immediately.

Flora blinked. "What? Come on! You said you had to answer–"

"And if you didn't, you took a shot and lost your next turn." He poured a glass, drinking it down quickly. Holding the now empty glass towards her, he said, "I drank a shot. Ask again."

She scowled. "You know, this is entirely unfair. I'm a lightweight!"

That familiar smirk was back on his face. "I know."

"You play dirty!" she whined.

He winked. "I know."

She bit her bottom lip as she thought what to ask, unconsciously making Clive rather bothered. "Hmm. Okay then, what's your favorite color?"

He scoffed. "Really? My favorite color?"

"Yes! I couldn't think of anything else right then, okay? And if you want to keep your next turn you'd do well to just be quiet and answer it," she threatened.

He held his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. No need to get your knickers in a twist."

She grimaced. "Please don't say knickers."

He chuckled. "My favorite color? I don't know. Blue, I suppose."

She nodded her head. "Huh."

"My turn," he said. "Where'd you go after your parents–after that night?"

"I lived with a professor. He was a kind man," she answered.

"And do you still see him?"

"Not in three years, and now I get to ask two questions."

"Ah! And you said I played dirty."

She batted her eyelashes. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she said innocently.

"Okay, what law firm do you work at?"

He frowned. "What's with all the work questions?"

"You owe me three questions now!"

"Fine. If you must know, I am the head of the Dove and Allen Enterprises."

"That sounds quite impressive," she said, then cocked her head to the side. "So does that mean your last name is Dove?"

"What makes you say that?" he asked, quite surprised. Most thought it was Allen or something else entirely.

"It's first in the name for the firm, and you seem quite narcissistic–no offense intended."

"None taken," he assured her. He knew she was a smart girl; she was studying to be a nurse after all, but she seemed so airy and childish that it was easy to dismiss her as empty-headed. The girl was more observant than he'd given her credit for. Clive was rather impressed.

"So I was right, then? You're Clive Dove?" she asked with a little bounce, anxious to see if she was correct.

His nod confirmed her assumption, and she gave a small, self-congratulatory cheer.

Clive smiled at her antics. "Well, that's your third question, so it's my turn now." He thought for a bit. He wanted to ask her something that would make her slightly uncomfortable, just to see her reaction.

Flora caught the glint in his eyes, but before she could say anything, he had already asked. "So, Miss Reinhold, how many men have you slept with?"

"How many… wha-what?" she gaped as he laughed.

"Is that a pass, then, my dear?" he teased.

She sighed. "Yes."

He handed her a full glass, grinning at the scowl on her face as she took it from him. Steeling herself, she knocked it back, nearly choking. "Bloody hell!" she spluttered. "That's 'orrible!"

"Burns, doesn't it?" he said, not being able to resist a few more jabs. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it in a bit. I foresee you having a lot more passes."

She fixed him with a glare. "Get used to it, huh? Like you have?" she shot back.

His blue eyes darkened. She _was _perceptive. "Not a good subject to poke at, love." He grasped her chin, looking into her eyes. "I'd be careful with what I say, if I were you."

She brushed him off, a bit shaken from his sudden change in attitude. She wished she could come up with a snappy retort, but that cold, hard gaze stopped her. It was strange, she thought, that those same eyes could be so beautiful, but so terrifying.

Clive stroked her cheek. "Come now, sweet. No need to be scared." Inwardly, he was both pleased with the amount of control he now had over her, and disappointed that the ease in which they had both been in was gone.

"I'm not," she defended, but her voice came out small and shaky.

"Let's get back to the game, shall we?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

* * *

><p>In the next hour, Flora had only asked three more questions, and Clive had taken a great pleasure in teasing her low tolerance. The more she drank, the more flustered she got. Clive had taken to asking questions he knew would shock her, and thus getting even more turns.<p>

"So, Flora, are you a virgin?" he had asked casually.

"Pass!" she'd yelped, then was startled to find him laughing.

"What?" she snapped, but then realized why. He'd slept with her, of course he knew the answer! "Oh…" she groaned.

"Drink up, love," he said gleefully, sliding yet another scotch her way.

"Not fair," she grumbled as she raised the glass to her lips.

Soon, she was practically sliding out of her chair, laughing at the strangest things. Clive nodded decisively. "Let's get you home, sweet."

Helping her out of her seat, he carefully guided her out of the building, letting her rest her head on his chest during the ride to her flat. He was planning on dropping her outside her building, but hesitated when he heard her mumble softly, "That was fun, Clive. You're fun."

He liked the sound of his name on her lips, he decided.

Arriving at her flat, he gently laid her down on her couch. He turned to walk away when he felt her delicate hand tug on his sleeve. "Don' go," she whispered, half asleep. He couldn't help the smile that made its way to his normally impassive face.

"I don't think that's a good idea, love," he said softly, speaking as one would to a child.

"I don't want you to leave," she said stubbornly.

"Perhaps next time, then."

"Will there be a next time?" she asked, her eyes starting to droop.

"Yes," he said, surprising himself at the honesty in his words.

"Promise me."

"I promise," he said quietly, brushing a stray curl back.

"Good," she smiled sleepily.

He kissed her forehead. "Good night, Flora."

Suddenly, the prospect of returning to his cold, Flora-less flat did not appeal to him at all. It couldn't hurt, he reasoned, to stay. It was one night, he told himself, to make sure she was alright. Never had an armchair looked so inviting.

Sleep came surprisingly easily for Clive that night.

**A/N: Hi, everyone. I'm actually not sure whether or not I should keep writing this. I have no idea if you guys even like it anymore! Well, I hope you are all having a great holiday break! As always, I love hearing what you guys think.**


	8. Chapter 8

Flora woke to the distinct sound of a kettle whistling, and strangely, the rustle of a page being turned. Looking up, she saw none other than Clive Dove, comfortably sitting on her couch and reading one of her books as he absent-mindedly ran his fingers through her hair.

And, she realized with a small blush, she was currently in his lap.

She decided she liked waking up to that.

Clive chuckled as she stretched languidly, his hands still combing through her auburn curls. "Have a good sleep?" he asked without looking up.

"Very," she answered, sitting up slowly and moving to sit next to him. "You?" she asked.

He felt strangely pleased that she wasn't at all upset or surprised to see him there, almost as if she knew he wouldn't have left her. But through that warm, pleasant feeling, a strong unease was building up inside him. Despite his many one-night stands, he had never been so… _intimate _with anyone before. The whole idea of waking up the next morning with_ her_, just spending time with her, was entirely unfamiliar to him.

He turned back to her, noticing she was looking at him curiously. "Are you alright, Clive?" she asked, placing her hand on his shoulder, concern lacing her tone. The simple gesture, so full of care and sympathy, shook him to his core.

It was then that he felt it. A sudden change, a shift, in what they had, whatever you would call it. Their relationship.

And he was positive she could feel it too.

"Clive?"

Her voice brought him back to, and her lips, forming his name, had never looked so appealing as it did then. He was plagued with the strongest desire to kiss her.

So he did.

He pulled her close, tilting her head, his lips moving on hers. He broke the kiss, looking into her clouded eyes as he slowly pulled away. "I had a very good sleep, love," he murmured lowly.

And then he was up, asking her if she would like coffee with breakfast, and that she should really go grocery shopping, which coming from him said a lot. He turned back to Flora, who was looking quite dazed, a smirk (though it was a much softer, kinder one; only Flora would ever see it) on his face.

"Flora dear, I was asking you a question concerning your health and well-being!" he exclaimed with mock hurt.

"You…you–wha-what. What?" she stuttered out.

He laughed. "I know I'm irresistible love, but if I knew I had this much of an affect on you, I wouldn't have done it. You sound as if you're broken!"

She sobered up at his words. "You're an irritating and conceited git, that's what. Oh, and yes, I'll have a coffee."

And with that she got up and flounced off to her room, leaving Clive shaking his head, a smile on his face.

* * *

><p>Clive, much to Flora's surprise, could actually cook. He'd managed to make breakfast for her in the time she had taken to shower and change. They sat down to omelettes, juice, and coffee; chatting easily. Whether consciously or not, they both stayed away from more serious topics, choosing instead to talk about the lighthearted things.<p>

Soon, it was rather late in the afternoon, and Clive had to leave. Flora watched as he walked out the door.

"Thank you, Clive," she called out, smiling warmly at him.

"What for?" he asked, turning back to look at her.

"For staying with me. For letting me get to know you, even just a little bit."

She reached out to him, rising on the tips of her toes so she could kiss the corner of his mouth. "Maybe… maybe we're both a bit broken," she whispered, recalling his words from before. "Maybe, we just need someone to put us back together."

He swallowed, hard. "Maybe," he said, bending down to kiss her forehead. With one final smile he left, the sound of the door clicking shut echoing in the empty hall.

* * *

><p>If Flora was being honest with herself, she would have said that she really didn't believe she'd see Clive again. She had enjoyed their time together, and though she would have loved to see him again, she knew that it wasn't something he did. She had been lucky to see him at all after that first night; she shouldn't expect more.<p>

So she was incredibly surprised to see him standing on her doorstep a few weeks later, a bouquet of flowers in tow. Seeing her shocked expression, he brushed pass her without invitation, asking where he should put her flowers.

"Is the table here fine? Yes? No? Okay then, I'll just put them there anyways. Alright, love, dinner at seven? Good? Yeah, of course it's good. Right then, I'm off!"

As he started out the door, Flora snapped out of her daze and grabbed his shoulder. "Are you on something? What on earth was that about?" she demanded, her face a mixture of annoyance and confusion. But inwardly, she was rather pleased to see him, and his quick dinner proposal, though it was completely out of the blue and had no regard for her opinions, it was sweet in a very Clive-like way.

"No, not on anything." He cocked his head. "Well, actually, if you count caffeine, then yes. Now, I really must be off–"

Flora stepped closer, her hand cupping his cheek. "Clive, when was the last time you slept properly? Or ate?" she asked concernedly, looking him over critically.

He seemed to ponder the question. "Ate? Sometime yesterday. Slept? Last night. Properly? Three weeks ago," he said, his voice becoming softer. "When I was here with you."

He pulled her towards him, the action making her stomach do flips. Clive tilted her chin, holding her close. "I made a promise, didn't I?"

She put her hands on his chest, creating a bit of distance between them so she could look at him properly. "Yes, you did," she said with a nod. "But, you should have given me a bit more notice, yeah?"

He shrugged. "I suppose."

"But since I'm such a wonderful, kind person, I'll accept," she said, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Clive snorted. "Oh darling, don't make it as if you're doing me a favor. But anyhow, get ready. You're in for quite an evening."

He made to leave, and was half way out the door when her voice called him back. "You're leaving already?" she asked.

"Well, yes, I thought I was leaving for you to get ready." He stepped back in. "Do you want me to stay?"

"No!" she said, a bit too forcefully. She blushed at his raised eyebrow. "I mean, I thought you'd stay for a bit, at least."

He checked his watch. "I'd be late for my meeting, and I've already had a shower, but if you insist–"

"No!" she squealed, understanding what he was getting at. Clive laughed as she pushed him out the door. He gripped the sides of the doorway, preventing himself from being locked out, then turned to face her. Leaning down, he gave her a quick kiss, then before she could even register it, he was already down the hall, his unbuttoned blazer flapping as he walked. "Bye, love," he called. "I'll see you tonight!"

Flora leaned against her doorway, her hand lightly touching her lips. "You always want the last word, don't you," she said softly.

* * *

><p>Clive opened the door to his office, quickly checking his watch. He sighed in relief. He still had time. Positioning himself at his desk, he picked up a hefty stack of documents and began to work through them. Soon, there was a soft knock on his door.<p>

"Come in," he said without looking up from his paperwork.

"Clive," came a low, almost sleepy sounding voice. Clive's head snapped up, and he found himself looking into the tired, dull grey-blue eyes of Dimitri Allen, his right-hand man and the closest thing Clive had to a friend.

"Dimitri!" he said, his voice full of surprise.

"Clive, you've been putting it off."

"Putting what off?" he countered evasively.

"You know what," Allen said with a stern look.

Clive sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I know. Okay? I know. I've been busy. I just haven't gotten around to it."

"Clive, you can't do this! What if he leaves the country? We have him here, the surveillance team reported that he's been there for the past week." Dimitri moved to Clive's desk, looking at the papers strewn over it. He picked up one, scanning the contents. "You knew!" he waved the report at Clive accusingly.

Clive shrugged. "Of course I did. You think I wouldn't know what's going on in my own company? I told you before: I just haven't had the time. I'll get it done."

"Clive, if you're really as busy as you claim," he began, earning a glare from Clive, "We can always send someone else. We have plenty of guys, all trained and eager to prove themselves. It wouldn't be a problem–"

"No," he said through gritted teeth. "I said I would do it, so _I will do it."_

"Then do it tonight," Dimitri said, refusing to let Clive off that easily.

His suggestion was met with silence. "Is there a problem, Clive?"

"I can't do it tonight," came his sullen answer.

Dimitri groaned in frustration, sinking into one of the chairs in the office. "What is so damn important that you can't?"

"I have a prior engagement," he stated calmly. He had regained his composure, refusing to be one-upped by Dimitri's ever cool, unshakable demeanor. Only Dimitri Allen could rile him up; Clive was famous among his employees for his cold, icy attitude.

"Fine. _Fine_, but it better be someone important. They have to be worth the investment," he said, walking out of Clive's office.

At his parting words, Clive allowed himself a small smile. _She's definitely worth the investment_, he thought.

**A/N: Hey, everyone. The amount of support I got was just wonderful. I am so motivated!**

**Ohoho, what is Clive doing? Well, I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter!**

Thank you to: **Ethera****, Bwahaha…, ItalianPrincess92, Ebonystar viciouslycute, SophiaDescole13, and Hanaakarii! You guys are amazing!**


	9. Chapter 9

Clive and Flora were walking out of the restaurant, his arm draped across her shoulders. It had been almost three months since their first evening out together (how Clive despised the word 'date') and Clive could honestly not remember the last time he'd been this relaxed. Of course, he was still uptight and would become reserved and closed-off, but Flora knew it was only because he'd never been this close to someone. She was rather flattered that it was her, and only her, who got to see that side of him.

Over those three months, she had gradually been integrated into his life. Bit by bit, he'd learnt her little quirks; from how she always had tea at precisely 11 o' clock to her favorite spot in the city. Clive smiled at the memory; it was one of his favorites of their time together.

_"Flora love, I wouldn't mind all this trudging about nearly as much if I knew where we were actually going," he grumbled._

_"Oh do shut up, Clive," she replied easily, turning back to continue leading him up the rather steep hill. Clive had always gotten up early, a habit of his, but the nights he stayed with Flora, he could always sleep in. He was sure if it hadn't been for her, he would have passed out from exhaustion many times. _

_While he rose early, Flora loathed the very notion. Once, she'd confided her suspicions of 'morning people'. _

_"It just isn't natural!" she had cried, poking his shoulder rather forcefully to emphasize her point. He'd laughed at her, but a sharp whack with a pillow to his head quickly set him straight._

_"Don't worry love, I feel the same way about vegans," he said placatingly, somehow managing to keep a straight face as she nodded in agreement._

_So he was quite surprised to see her shaking him awake, excitedly chattering about taking him somewhere (he hadn't bothered to focus on what she was saying, really.) _

_And that was why he had spent the better part of his morning following Flora about the London streets, and by noon he was convinced she had taken quite a few wrong turns on purpose, just to mess with his head. He'd also somehow gotten roped into carrying the basket ("A picnic!" she had chirped) that was quite heavy._

_Suddenly, he bumped into her back, stumbling a bit. He was about to snap at her, but then saw where they were. The top of the grassy hill, with a large oak tree for shade, and the view of the entire London skyline. _

_"Isn't it wonderful?" she said, standing with arms akimbo._

_"Yeah," he breathed._

They hadn't talked; they didn't need to. Just enjoying the day with each other's company was enough.

Her home was now filled with things of his that had somehow wound up there. Clive had lost track of how many times he'd knocked on her door early in the morning (when he hadn't been able to spend the night) and she'd opened it clad in one of _his _sweaters, not even checking to see who it was. They had developed a routine; he'd make her breakfast while she got ready for the day, and she would read her books while he read the morning news. That familiarity was the much needed consistency in his life.

Flora herself was as lighthearted and happy as she had ever been. She felt as if everything was right in the world, everything was going well. Jenny and Rupert had hit it off quite nicely, and though Flora hardly saw the two, she was beyond happy for the pair. But, in the back of her mind, Flora couldn't help but feel that Clive was hiding something. He was lovely, yes, showering her with attention and gifts (though she'd protested that he was doing too much for her, he'd always brushed it off, saying she deserved much more than he could ever give her). But when she thought about it, how much did she really know about him? He knew nearly everything about her, it seemed, and she knew his preferences, but it was like she only knew what he wanted her to. She couldn't quite explain it, but it was as if he had planned everything; the things he told her, what they did.

She trusted him implicitly, though, and she didn't want to spoil things by being a worried, suspicious person. She shook her head, getting rid of those thoughts. _Yes, _she decided, _I'll enjoy the time I have with him._

Because, after all, she didn't believe (though she hoped) that his interest in her would stay for very long.

* * *

><p>They had been walking for a while now, enjoying the silhouette of London's buildings, cloaked in nighttime. Suddenly, Clive saw a shadow flicker from the building they had just passed. He mentally cursed, he should have been more careful! His grip on Flora tightened.<p>

"Flora," he said quietly, but urgently. "Don't look back, but I want you to go straight back to your flat. Take a shortcut, not the way you'd normally go, alright? I'll meet you back there later."

"Clive, what's going on–" she tried to ask, but was interrupted.

"Flora, I need you to trust me. Promise me you'll do as I ask." She tried to protest, but he cut her off again. "Promise me, Flora."

His soft, pleading tone, conveying care and worry, worry for _her_, made her give in. "I promise," she whispered.

He pressed his lips to hers for an instant, pulling away and caressing her face. "I'll explain later, okay? Now go."

He turned around, not looking back once as he strode purposefully through the darkened streets.

His face stony and grim, he knew. He had to do it now.

**A/N: Ooooh, Clive's maaad! Hahaha. I thought about including the next bit in this chapter, but then I decided not to. Well, maybe you guys will get a Christmas present tomorrow!**

**I'd love to hear what you think. ^_^**

Thank you to: **ItalianPrincess92 and SophiaDescole13 **for the support! It means so much to me!

_You know, when you google 'Clive/Flora', my fanfiction account thing is the first hit? That just made me super happy, like, you have no idea._


	10. Chapter 10

Adam Sterling was in trouble. His company hadn't made a good profit, and he'd had to declare bankruptcy, leaving hundreds without jobs. All of his other financial plans had fallen through, his wife had left him, calling him irresponsible and pathetic.

He was tired. His mind, his body. In the past year, he'd aged what seemed like a decade. His once dark hair was more grey than anything; his eyes dull and listless.

Throwing down his briefcase as he entered his cold flat, shrugging of his coat, not bothering to see where it landed, he made his way to his kitchen. A bright glow caught his eye, and he went down the hall to investigate. _Curious, _he thought. _I was sure I hadn't left the light on._

Pushing the door open, he stifled a horrified gasp as he saw a familiar man comfortably sitting in his study, perusing through that day's paper.

"Fancy seeing you here, Sterling."

"D-Dove! Wh-what do you want?" he said, trying his best to make his voice sound steady.

He ignored him. "I was just reading this article. Fascinating, really. '_Sterling's Lack of Silver'_, it's called. Quite fitting, wouldn't you agree?" Dove said, never looking back up. He stood up, the action drawing Sterling's attention to a glinting, black object resting on his desk. He gulped nervously.

Dove was walking around the table, running his hand along the edge, lingering as his fingers passed over the gun.

"You might want to tell your men to learn how to tail someone properly," he drawled, now leaning against the desk, one hand stuck in the pocket of his blazer. Sterling had no idea how this man, years younger than he, could be this unaffected, this _terrifying_.

Suddenly, his worry for himself vanished. "Wait!" he shouted, his voice loud. Dove raised an eyebrow at his change in demeanor.

"No. I don't believe I owe you that courtesy," he said coldly, eyes hard. "If there's one thing I can't stand in this world, it's having someone use me. I spoon fed you information, and what do you do? You go behind my back. You try and make a deal with another company. Bet you thought you were being sneaky, huh? Being clever? It seems you forgot who you were dealing with. But, I don't make the same mistake twice."

He picked up the gun.

"Please! Please, I'll do anything! I'll go with you, just don't–" Sterling pleaded, but was cut off by the click of the safety being taken off.

His eyes grew wide with terror. "No!"

Dove raised the gun, his face drawn in a sneer. "You're pathetic. It was quite a fortunate turn of events, really. From the way you handled your own affairs, I hate to think of the jeopardy you'd put all my work in, had we gone through with that deal. Well, fortunate for me. Your luck has been running out for quite some time, hasn't it?"

The dark barrel was now level with his head. Then there was a muffled bang and the world was dark.

* * *

><p>Clive was putting the gun back in his belt, his face empty and emotionless. The first time he'd had to take a life, he had been sick. But as the years went by, you found a way to deal with things, to shut your feelings off, to have no conscience. For Clive, he'd turned to the bottle, numbing his senses until nothing mattered anymore.<p>

But this had been hard. Well, harder than normal.

And Clive knew exactly who to blame. That stupid, loving, wonderful girl.

Flora. His Flora.

She made him feel alive again, made him feel whole and pure. He couldn't, though. He couldn't ruin her. She was too sweet, too innocent, too bloody _young._

"Daddy?"

_Shit no no no please God no, _Clive found himself pleading.

"Daddy? Daddy!"

Clive had just left, but not before he saw a little girl in her nightie, clutching a worn teddy to her side as she found her father. And not before he heard an earth shattering scream.

* * *

><p>The doors to 'Dove and Allen Enterprises' (as they called it) swung open, hitting the walls with a loud thud. He strode down the halls, making his way to the offices.<p>

"Who was in charge of surveillance?" he snarled.

The man who had done the research on their mark knew better than to pretend he hadn't messed up, since that would no doubt dig a deeper hole for him. Perhaps if he owned up quickly, Dove wouldn't be as angry. He stood up. "I was," he answered, speaking clearly.

But as Dove spun around, and he saw a look of such distress and anger he had never before seen in their young employer in all his years, he knew he would have no such luck.

"Do you care to explain why there was absolutely _no _information that Sterling had a fucking _five-year-old _daughter living with him?"

The man was blindsided. He checked the papers on his desk, frantically searching for the information that could appease his enraged boss. "I-I didn't see anything in the reports…" he trailed timidly.

Clive sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Get him out of here. Now."

Two men instantly came up from behind the man, seizing him by the arms and dragging him out. No one paid heed to his begging; they went about their work as normal.

Clive went to his office, slamming the door shut. Opening a cabinet where several bottles were stored along with some glasses, he pulled a half-full bottle of brandy out, foregoing the use of cups. Spinning off the lid, he took a long swig right out of the bottle.

_You killed a man in front of __his daughter._

Another swig.

_Cold-hearted bastard._

Hours, minutes? Another bottle.

_She'll never forgive you._

More. He needs more. He can still feel.

_She'll never love you._

A crash and broken glass everywhere. The numbness starts to set in. Things start to fade, details become fuzzy. Then everything's gone as he slides to the floor, unconscious.

* * *

><p>Dimitri knew something was wrong with Clive the minute he'd come back. Hell, something had been wrong about three months ago. But he'd seen the mood the boy was in (despite his achievements, Clive would always be referred to as a boy by Dimitri) and decided to give him some time alone.<p>

He found the boy laying with a near empty bottle grasped loosely in his hand, several others cluttering the desk, shards of glass glinting on the dark carpet.

"Clive," he said, gently shaking him awake.

He groaned, slowly sitting up. He raised the bottle, but before he could bring it to his lips Dimitri had already grabbed his wrist with one hand, then snatched the bottle away in one smooth motion.

"Give that back," he said, glaring at the older man.

"You don't need this, Clive."

Dimitri set the bottle on the desk. "I haven't seen you this messed about something since the first hit you did. What's so important about this?"

He sighed, leaning back against the table leg. "He…he had a _child_, Dimitri. A little girl. And she saw me."

Dimitri shrugged. Years in this business had altered his sense of wrong and right. But now, something, or, as Dimitri thought would be more accurate, someone had changed Clive's views.

And now, their whole operation might be in danger. Clive, the old Clive, had been meticulous. But now, he'd gone and got himself a tail, for who knows how long.

He picked Clive off the floor. "Let's get you home. You're still using the Maple Street place, hmm?"

The boy nodded numbly, letting his friend and mentor guide him out and into his car. The drive helped clear Clive's head a bit. He looked out the window, realizing that he knew where they were.

"Hey, pull over here," he called to Dimitri.

He frowned. "What–"

"It's fine. Please, Dimitri."

With a sigh, he pulled over. "Get some rest, Clive. We need you with a clear head, especially with these next projects."

The boy nodded, one hand raised in farewell, the other stuck in his pocket as he walked up the steps to the apartment building.

"We can't afford any distractions, Clive," he said softly as he drove away.

* * *

><p>Flora was worried. They'd been walking after a lovely evening out, and then suddenly she has to sneak back to her flat? She was confused, and a horrible suspicion was dawning on her. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something was amiss. And it all had to do with Clive.<p>

She'd been waiting, sitting at her kitchen table, still in her dress, for nearly an hour. The cup of coffee she'd made had gone cold. Flora sighed. She might as well get some rest. She had a feeling Clive wouldn't return to her very soon.

So she had gone to sleep, but it was one of those light, uneasy sleeps that come with worry. A erratic knock on her door, late into the night, easily woke her. Slipping on her dressing gown, she went to answer it.

As soon as she opened it, Clive practically fell onto her, placing a sloppy kiss right on her lips. "Please," he gasped as he broke the kiss. His hands went to the knot holding her gown, deft fingers easily untying it; the gown falling away, leaving her standing in her nightie. "Please," he repeated. "I need to feel– I need to forget…I need–Please."

He was pushing her now, further into her living room, until her back hit a wall. And his mouth was on hers, but with an intensity she'd never experienced, and he was so-so… _possessive_!

She gathered her wits when he moved to the buttons on her nightgown. Grabbing his hands, she pushed him away forcefully.

It was then she could see him clearly. She gasped at what she saw. His hands were covered with cuts, his normally immaculate suit was crumpled, bloodstains marring it. He was panting, and he had the decency to look a bit ashamed at what he'd done. But his eyes made her want to sob. They'd always been a bit dull, a bit unhappy, but as she got to know him more, and to spend more time with him, that had gradually begun to fade. She'd seen how light those eyes had been, twin pools of azure.

But now, she barely recognized him. His eyes were cold and hard, so dark they looked black. They weren't part of the face, part of the person she'd come to know, come to lo–

No. She wouldn't let herself say it. Because saying _that _word made it real, and made things so hard to deny. Right now, she could still convince herself that it was just a passing fancy. She could never measure up to what someone like _him _deserved. _She _was the passing fancy.

Flora turned back to Clive, moving closer, cupping his cheek. She licked her lips before she spoke, grimacing as she tasted the sweet, strong taste of hard liquor. He'd been drinking, heavily. "Oh, Clive," she whispered.

And then he seemed to deflate, collapsing into her arms. So she held him, trying to decipher his mumbling. She stroked his head, which lay in her lap, brushing the hair away from his face. "Clive, what happened?" she asked gently.

Clive winced. This was the question he had been dreading. The answer would make her hate him, but she had done so much for him. She deserved to know who he was.

He sat up slowly, his fingers tracing her cheekbones. "Flora, I'm not a lawyer. Not a practicing one, anyways."

Her eyes widened, his caresses, once something she loved, now felt like burns. He didn't stop.

"What I do, it isn't… it isn't good, Flora," he had to say her name. He knew it was the last time he'd ever get to.

"No," she whispered.

"I killed him, Flora," he said, his voice never changing from that calm, like he was talking to a child. "Did you know he had a daughter? She was there. I don't know how much of it she saw, but she saw the end."

"Stop!" Flora hissed. "Just stop it!" Why was he telling her this? She jumped to her feet quickly, the room starting to spin. "Y-you… I… I'm going to be sick!"

She sat down, her head in her hands. He moved to touch her, but she twisted away violently. "Don't. Don't touch me, don't come near me!"

"Flora," he said softly.

She whipped her head around, her eyes glistening with tears. "I trusted you! I-I… Just leave, Clive."

He nodded, and then she heard the door being shut. Drawing in a sharp breath, she slid to the floor and sobbed.

**A/N: Shit went dooown. Poor Flora. **

**I would have had this up yesterday, but the power went out! Crazy, right? Well, I hope you all had a great Christmas!**

**I would really, really love a review for this chapter!**

_Thank you to:** SophiaDescole13! **Your reviews are so kind! I'm really grateful!_


	11. Chapter 11

Clive nodded in resignation, getting to his feet, and quietly left. The air was cold, but he barely noticed. He felt… hollow.

It was strange, he thought bitterly. The one good thing in his life in God knows how many years, and it's taken from him in a matter of minutes.

_Don't forget, it was your fault._

How could he ever forget?

After driving aimlessly for hours, he found himself in Canterbury. He stared blankly for a while, then felt a sharp pang shoot through him as he realized just where he was.

The buildings had mostly been rebuilt, but evidence of that terrible day remained. The large oak tree where he and his mates had made their meeting spot had a large scorched patch on the trunk. As he walked, memories flooding back, he got closer to that day when his entire world changed.

He walked past the church, remembering every Sunday service; his mother stuffing him in a stiff suit. He'd complain, but really he thought he looked quite dashing, and once she left, he'd admire the sleek black jacket and trousers before heading out himself. He almost smiled, expecting to hear _her _voice as she quipped at how vain he'd always been, but then stopped short.

Flora, his Flora, wasn't there.

_Don't be a fool. She was never, and will never, be yours._

A strong ache replaced the emptiness from before; Clive would rather have that blank hollowness, because now he could feel, and feeling made him want to drown out everything. It made him want to drink and drink until his head floated out the door. Until he forgot her name, her face, that she ever existed. But, that wouldn't help much. Clive didn't think he could ever forget her, and on the unlikely chance that they would meet again, he wanted to show her how much she had affected him, how much he had changed because of her. He couldn't give up alcohol completely, but he had silently vowed to stop drinking in excess. He'd already instructed one of his men to clear out his cabinets of all the various bottles.

He stopped when he came to the cemetery. He swallowed, then turned away. He wasn't ready. They couldn't see him like this; he could only imagine how hard it would be for his parents to see what had become of their son.

Clive walked and saw the area where his childhood home had once stood. Hot anger filled him up when he saw that it had been built over, but it quickly dissipated as he realized that people would have had to move on. The memories he had had in that home were wonderful; Clive had lived the ideal childhood, and now someone else could create memories here.

Time seemed to stop, and by the time Clive had wandered around his old neighborhood, it was nearing dawn. He stumbled a bit, the lack of sleep, food, and the night's events had all combined and taken its toll on his worn body. Looking back, it was a wonder to Clive that he managed to drive home in one piece.

He'd just settled down to sleep in his own bed, something that had not happened in over two months, when he heard a loud, single knock on his door. Blearily, he got up and answered it. He was too exhausted to bother checking who it was, and he knew it could really only be one person.

"Dimitri?" he asked. They both knew where the other lived, but it was a rare occurrence that they'd actually make use of that knowledge. Both being fairly well-known in their line of work, it was not wise to visit each other so often. Clive knew something was wrong just alone from that, but upon seeing Dimitri's solemn expression, he knew it was something bad.

The older man held up an envelope, silently handing it to Clive and stepping in. He found a bottle of rum, and poured himself a glass, offering one to Clive, who was trying to find a letter opener. But Clive didn't look up, so he said in that low voice, "Clive, here."

Clive absent-mindedly waved him off. "Not for me, thanks."

It took a lot to surprise Dimitri, but Clive had finally succeeded. "Clive Owen Dove, are you turning down a drink?" he asked, then shook his head. They had more important matters at hand. "Never mind. But Clive, you need to read that. I found it on your desk, addressed to you." He sat next to the boy, sipping his drink.

Clive, growing impatient, just ripped it open and began reading. His eyes grew wide as he read.

"So you see, Clive, I don't know who that is–" Dimitri began, but found his words falling on deaf ears. The letter lay folded on the floor, Clive's jacket was missing from the hook, and he could hear the click of the door being firmly shut.

"Clive?"

Silence. He sighed. Some things would never change with that boy.

* * *

><p>Flora was cooking. It had become a habit over the past few months, and so she'd gotten up again to make breakfast. She'd just taken out the plates, putting the warm omelettes on the table. Pouring the coffee, sugar and cream for her, and black for him, she called out impatiently, "Clive! Where–" she abruptly cut herself off.<p>

She faltered, biting her lip to keep from crying. She'd been doing that far too often in the past day. She shook her head, trying to get rid of any thoughts of _him_. But it was futile. Bits of him lingered everywhere. She had found his sweater in her drawer that morning, and that unique combination of whiskey, soap, and sandalwood that was completely Clive flooded her senses.

Flora had decided, once her breathing had calmed. She would keep all those memories, of him and their time together, but that was it. Starting tomorrow, she was going through a Clive-purge. She would get rid of every single thing of his that had wound up in her flat, and he'd become nothing but a distant memory.

She turned back to her kitchen, throwing away the extra omelette and coffee, sighing loudly. Then, there was a rustle, the faintest sound of footsteps, but before she could turn around, a strong pair of unfamiliar hands shot out of nowhere. One covered her mouth, the other wrapped around her waist roughly.

The scream died in her throat when she heard a gruff voice. "Oi, she's a pretty one, innit?" The man stroked her cheek with calloused fingers. "I can see why the boss wants 'er. Maybe I'll 'ave a bit o' fun wit 'er before we hafta give 'er over." Another man laughed, nodding his agreement.

"I think that sounds like a plan."

**A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! I just finished at exactly 12 o'clock. I'm sorry for the wait (well, it was only a week?) but updates are going to be much slower with school starting up again. I'll still try to update weekly! But don't hesitate to give me reminders! **

**So, what did you think of this chapter? I would love to know!**

_Thank you to: _**Boot-chan, Seventh Sunset **_(Oh wow, your review was so kind!)_** Emiri-chu, SophiaDescole13, Ebonystar viciouslycute, Ethera, and ItalianPrincess92! I mean, everyone's support is just fantastic, and it's making my life a lot better. I'd love for this to continue!**


	12. Chapter 12

Clive ripped the letter open, too impatient to be careful. In neat cursive, there was one line.

_Mister Dove,_

_Every action has a consequence. _

_R.M._

His eyes widened, his chest constricting painfully.

_Florafloraflora_

He leapt to his feet, the letter laying forgotten on the carpet. He didn't have time to explain to Dimitri as he rushed out the door. Diving into his car, he sped off towards the tiny flat, his worry nearly consuming him.

Up the steps, careful not to make a sound, he walked quietly and quickly down the hall to her flat, his heart pounding. He waited outside the door, using all his will-power not to burst through and hold her. But when he heard the low-class accent of some man, saying horrible things about _his _Flora, he saw red. Not being able to hold himself back, Clive surged through the door.

The second man let out a surprised, "Hey!" but was cut off when Clive's elbow dug into his stomach. With a superhuman speed, Clive had already whirled around, yanking the other man off of Flora, who had backed herself into a corner.

The men fought as well as they could, but Clive was unstoppable. It surprised even him, as he had never felt such a strong desire to protect someone. They raced out the door, shouting a string of curses at Clive.

"We ain't gonna let this go! You'll be 'earing from us real soon!"

But Clive wasn't going to waste a second more of his time on them, and he quickly went to Flora's side. Her dress was torn up the side, and several finger-shaped bruises covered her arms. He was hesitant to touch her, but when she gave out, sobbing, he held her close.

"He was– he was going to– oh, Clive!" she choked out, burying her head in his chest. He rubbed her back gently, murmuring comforting words.

When she calmed down enough, she seemed to realized what she had done. She sprang back from him, regarding him warily. The action made Clive feel horrible.

"Who were they, Clive?" she asked. He wouldn't hurt her, she knew, and she needed answers.

He shrugged, letting out a huff of frustration. "I don't know. But Flora, it isn't safe for you here. They must've seen you and I, and…" he trailed off awkwardly, then shook his head. Now wasn't the time to worry about the state of their relationship. "The point is, you can't stay here anymore."

"I'm not leaving." Her defiance surprised them both. "This is my home, and I won't put my friends in danger."

He shook his head. "I can't let you do that. You could get hurt–"

"Since when do you care about whether I'm hurt or not?" she snapped, and Clive knew she wasn't just talking about those men.

He grabbed her arms, making her wince. "Now you listen here, you silly girl. You think I'm some bastard, and I know you hate me, but I am not letting anything happen to you. So, you can pout all you want, but I am taking you somewhere safe. So, you can either get up and come with me, or I can just drag you out."

She glared at him, but looked away as she stood up. Clive smirked in triumph. He would always win.

"Don't bother packing," he said as she made to go to her room.

She shot him an annoyed look. "Then what, pray tell, would I wear?"

He shrugged indifferently. "If it were up to me, nothing at all," he said, enjoying watching her jaw drop. "But like I said, don't worry about it. I'll buy you clothes."

"I can't let you do that!" she protested, but Clive was already pulling her out the door. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. "Wait. Clive? Wait. Where are you taking me?"

He turned to look at her, a roguish grin on his face. "My house, of course."

* * *

><p>The drive to one of Clive's houses was awkward, to say the least. The small moment of camaraderie between them was gone; Flora refused to even look at him, her eyes fixed steadfastly out the window. As for Clive, he knew she had gone back to hating him, and he missed the ease in which they had both been at one stage dearly.<p>

Flora was feeling confused. She desperately wanted to just throw her arms around him, but she quickly shook her head. Instead, she focused on where they were heading. She knew Clive was a private person, and in spite of herself, she felt a bit honored that he was sharing this with her.

_Oh stop it, you spineless fool! _she scolded herself._ Remember what he did! He could never love you. _

The truth hurt, she thought miserably. If she was being honest, she missed him terribly. She missed being able to prop her feet on his lap while he read the Sunday paper and she napped. She missed their comfortable routines, but most of all, she missed being able to trust him completely.

They arrived at a large, very comfortable looking flat. Everything was designer, Flora noted, to suit Clive's expensive tastes. She suddenly felt horribly dowdy in her torn, old dress, and a hot blush rose to her cheeks.

"You'll stay in the room down the hall, and you'll have your own bathroom. I'll lend you something to sleep in for tonight, and tomorrow I can take you shopping for clothes."

She nodded, slightly dazed at everything that had happened. Things had been going so quickly, and she was so tired she could barely comprehend it all.

"Thanks," she murmured, not having the energy to argue. As she brushed past him to enter her room, Clive felt it like an electric shock, and he had to stifle a groan. He shook his head. It wouldn't do to make their relationship any worse. It was already awkward enough as it is.

Realizing that he hadn't given her anything to wear, he quickly dug through his drawers. Finding a long shirt, he deemed suitable for sleepwear. Knocking on her door, he opened it, Flora no where in sight. He shrugged, leaving the folded nightshirt and towel on her bed. Just as he turned around to leave, there was the click of a door being opened, and there stood Flora in nothing but her underclothes.

They both stood there for a while, identical expressions of shock on their faces. He coughed, seeming to break the spell, and she jumped back into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. He left with a smirk on his face as he listened to Flora's muffled scolding. "Dammit, Clive!" she yelled. "Can't you knock like a normal person?"

Well, at least he wouldn't have as many tense silences to deal with. Now, he had something to tease her about.

* * *

><p>Flora finished showering and had changed into the clothes Clive had left her, and she was reflecting on the day. She wasn't happy about having to stay with Clive. He was a murderer, she kept reminding herself whenever she'd get too carried away with thoughts of reconciliation. But, she'd take being flat mates with him than getting kidnapped any day, so she was stuck here.<p>

Padding out of her room, she looked around curiously for Clive. She needed answers.

He was sitting on a couch, a few buttons undone and his tie loose, and Flora had to bite her tongue to keep from having any…thoughts. A soft cough brought his attention to her, and seeing her in _his _shirt, that barely skimmed the middle of her thighs, almost made him choke on the coffee he had been drinking.

The Fates must be enjoying themselves. They'd been tempting him all day, he thought, half amused.

"You owe me some answers, Clive," she said.

He sighed, knowing this had been coming. "I do."

She sat on the other end of the couch, listening as he began his story.

"I was thirteen the night my mother died, Father had died a month after. I had no one. That's when I met Dimitri. He must've been, oh, around my age now. So, twenty-nine? He'd just become something of a big-shot in the business, and he was aiming to start his own company. He found me, took me in, and I suppose that's how I got started."

She nodded, her face betraying no emotions. "You keep saying 'the business'. What exactly are you doing?" she asked.

"Extortion, mostly. There's different 'gangs' so to speak, and sometimes we have to tie up loose ends with fights among them. Sometimes we make deals with them, to further our own profit," he answered.

"Oh God, Clive. You were thirteen!"

He shook his head. "Not when I first started. That came a few years later. I was around seventeen, then. Our company, Dimitri's and mine, is the leading one in England right now. Naturally, we'd get a bit of attention from the media and public, so we go under the guise of a law firm. And I do have a degree in law. So does Dimitri."

The look of pity and revulsion on her face was too much. He looked at her, eyes pleading, begging her to understand. "Flora, it was either that, or starve on the streets. I know you hate me, but you have to understa–"

"I don't hate you," she interrupted quietly. She fixed her gaze on him. "I was angry. And I… I can't trust you, you understand. But I see now, that you didn't have a choice."

He closed his eyes, sighing heavily. "Don't paint me to be a good person, Flora. Whatever the reason, I still did terrible things."

She shook her head. "I know you did. But I also know that you can always be the person you want to. You get to choose your life, Clive. You can try to tell me otherwise, but you do have good in you. I've seen it."

Clive took in her speech silently as she got up. "Good night, Clive," she said as she went back to her room.

That night, sleep did not come easy for either of them. Clive was wondering how on earth Flora could be so forgiving, and Flora was worrying about what she would do next. She had known, of course, that there were… mob groups in London, but to think she had carried on with the head of one for so long? And now she wasn't safe? She was thankful Clive has arrived when he had; she had not wanted to dwell on what would have happened had he not. That was twice he'd saved her now.

She thought back to their conversation back in the coffee shop, months ago, when she had found out who he was. No, it wasn't a coincidence that they had met again.

Maybe, she thought, maybe it was her turn to save him.

**A/N: Hi, everyone! Here's a new chapter before I have to go back to school. I'll still update on weekends, though!**

_A super huge big thank you to:** mizily, Seventh Sunset **(maybe I'll write a Batman!Clive drabble!)** Alice-pyon **(Oh wow! Your review was a huge ego boost! Thank you so much)**, Emiri-Chu, and Ethera **(Gah! You are amazing!) **The support from you all is just wonderful. **_

**So, what did you think of this chapter?**


	13. Chapter 13

Clive had not wanted to force his presence on Flora, so had taken his breakfast to his study, leaving her plate in the kitchen. He hadn't known that she was secretly hoping to 'run' into him; though she tried her hardest, she couldn't help but enjoy the chats they'd had.

So Flora ate alone, until Clive cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"We need to get you clothes, lo–" he began, then quickly cut off the endearment he was about to call her. "The tailor agreed to fit you here, so here's a robe for you," he said, ignoring the slight blush that had colored Flora's cheeks.

She nodded, grabbing the robe and muttering her thanks as she went back to her room.

The tailor arrived shortly, and Flora had to wonder just how wealthy Clive was. It obviously wasn't easy to get an entire set of custom-made clothes, but he had, and on such short notice, too. She scowled. Her clothes would be bought with extortion money!

"Here, dearie, just stand up tall, right, and try not to wiggle about," the seamstress said in a cheery, matronly way as she adjusted Flora like a puppet.

Clive appeared in the doorway, and the woman, rushed over to him. "Clive, dear! Oh, you're looking frightfully thin!" she exclaimed as Flora watched on in amusement.

Clive, looking rather uncomfortable, did his best to shrug her off, failing miserably. "Mrs. Hansen, you say that every time," he said, as she tugged on the loose material of his shirt.

"Well, I say it because it's true. And you should get some meat on your girl there, she looks positively peaked!" she retorted, turning her attentions back to Flora. "But never mind that now. What is it you'll be needing?"

"Dresses, casual and formal. And, I suppose, blouses, skirts, and the like. I'll leave style up to you. Price doesn't matter, as you know."

She nodded good-naturedly. "I haven't had full rein on an order in a while, this'll be good fun for me! Don't you worry, dearie, you're in the best of hands," she assured, patting Flora's arm.

"I'll leave you ladies to it, then," Clive said, catching Flora's eye and shooting her a smirk, then turned before she could respond.

Scowling, she stamped her foot in frustration, only to have two arms clamp on hers, righting her body and holding her still.

"Now, dearie, what did I tell you about moving around?" Mrs. Hansen scolded with a click of her tongue.

_Dammit, Clive! _she thought.

* * *

><p>After standing still for who knows how long, Flora had begun to let her thoughts wander. She had liked Clive, really and truly liked him. She knew there were several extortion groups, London was swarmed with them. <em>And surely, <em>she thought, _those men have wives, don't they? And those women must know what they do. _

She tilted her head to the side, biting her lip as she thought. _It wasn't Clive's fault he got mixed up with that lot, _she reasoned. _I could get him out of it– No, what's the chance of that? If I really wanted to be with him, I could turn a blind eye–_

"Ow!" she yelped as a pin pricked her.

"Sorry dear, but I did tell you to stay still," the tailor said unsympathetically. Flora resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at woman; going back to her previous thoughts.

_No, she decided. I could never live with that on my conscience. _

Then, another thought occurred to her. _What makes you think that Clive wants you?_

And Flora really had no answer to that.

* * *

><p>Dimitri watched as Clive slumped onto one of his couches, a heavy sigh escaping him. He raised an eyebrow.<p>

"Why is this girl at your house, again?" he asked.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Those men were going to take her somewhere, and it all connects to that letter!" Clive answered with a huff.

"No, I meant, what's so important about this girl that you even bothered?" he clarified.

Clive looked at him in surprise. "I… I got her into that, it's only fair for me to keep her safe," he tried to explain.

Dimitri shook his head, seeing right through Clive. "It's more than that, isn't it? In all the time I've known you, you've never once kept a girl this long. Something's changed, hasn't it? Who is she, Clive?"

Clive frowned at his mentor. "You practically called me a slut, Dimitri." The older man merely smirked.

"Answer the questions, Clive. I can't help you unless I know."

Clive sighed. "Her name's Flora. Flora Reinhold."

Dimitri snorted. "Stupid name."

Clive glared. "Don't say that! You don't even know– actually, I think I said the same thing the first time I met her," he realized. "Anyways, I don't know what's different about her. I just… like her, I suppose. She's not like the other women I've been with. Hell, I can't even call her that. She's just this sweet _girl._"

"Just how old is she, Clive?"

He looked down as he answered. "Twenty-one," he mumbled.

Dimitri shrugged. "So you like her." No answer. "You love her?" he asked.

Clive's silence was answer enough.

Dimitri leaned back in his chair. "Ah. I see."

"Never mind that, Dimitri. Who sent that letter? _R.M._" Clive asked, a frown on his face. "Surely you've heard of someone?"

A shadow passed over the man's face. "I… No. I don't, Clive."

"I'll do some digging later," he said, standing up and checking his watch.

"You're going somewhere?" Dimitri asked.

"Erm, yeah, I thought I'd check in on Flora," he said, then caught the smug look on Dimitri's face. "Oh shut up!"

"Go on, then," Dimitri said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

* * *

><p>Flora was soon fitted for all her clothes, Mrs. Hansen promising to have them done in no time, and left with a pinch of Flora's cheek. Clive had come back soon after, asking her if she'd like to go out for lunch.<p>

"Oh no, I can make something here," she said, still feeling guilty for all the things he'd bought her. He nodded, saying it was actually best as he had something he'd like to discuss with her.

So, sitting down to sandwiches and soup, he thought about the easiest way to ease the matter onto her. Deciding he should just get it over and done with, he cleared his throat, prompting her to look up at him.

"Right, so I'll try and do most of my work here, but on the days that I have to go in, I've arranged for someone to stay with you while I'm gone," he said.

He didn't miss the flash of anger in those dark brown eyes. "Excuse me?" she said, her sandwich dropping from her hand. "You arranged to have me babysat?"

"Well, I can't have you alone here–" he tried to explain, but was quickly cut off.

"Oh, so you don't trust me?" she snapped, her temper rising.

Clive simply raised an eyebrow. "Might I point out, my dear, you don't trust me either?" he said with a sneer.

She seemed to retreat a bit at this, looking down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. "I don't need to have someone watch me," she began again, her voice much calmer. "I have my job and my classes I need to–"

"Oh, you won't be leaving the flat alone, either," Clive said offhandedly.

"…Excuse me?"

"I've told Arthur Morris you're taking time off and won't be coming in, and I've spoken with your professors. All your school work will be sent here," he elaborated.

"_What?" _she said incredulously.

He shrugged. "I have a tutor for you, so it's not like you'll fall behind–"

"Clive Dove, you controlling, conceited–" she began ranting.

"You're forgetting devilishly handsome," he interjected with a waggle of his eyebrows.

"No. Absolutely not. You're taking away everything! My entire life–"

"I am doing this to protect your life," he said, his voice cold and hard. Flora swallowed her angry words, feeling herself deflate.

She sighed. "I don't need want to have to ask for permission to leave, Clive. I'm an adult! I should be able to make my own decisions." But Clive wasn't listening, having picked up the day's paper and began reading. Flora nearly screamed in frustration. The man's ego was entirely too big.

"Clive, did you hear me?" No response. "Clive? Oh bloody hell, Clive!" She stood up, her chair scraping the floor loudly, marched over to Clive and yanked the paper out of his hands.

He looked up at her, a dull expression on his face, but Flora could see the glinting amusement in his eyes.

"Would you just listen for once, you insufferable man?"

He leaned back in his chair cockily. "I'm all ears, sweet," he said, noting that his use of pet names didn't cause a stir with her. The terms seemed so natural to say, and he hadn't thought about it as he said them. Evidently, neither had she.

"I can't… I can't _deal _with you being so goddamn controlling all the bloody time!" she exclaimed, gesturing wildly. "I mean, all this! It's ridiculous!"

He looked at her in surprise. He grabbed her hands, holding them in his own and sitting her down. "Flora, I know. Believe me, I know it's a bit much. But I can't let anything happen to you." She opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her with a sharp squeeze to her arms. "You think it's unlikely, that they'd find you, but Flora, I can't be too careful. Not when it comes to you." He let her hands go, running his own through his hair. "I can't lose you. I… I just can't."

She sat silently, taking in his words. She reached out, her fingers tracing the sharp cheekbones, moving down to cup his face. He closed his eyes, savoring her touch, but it was gone in an instant. His eyes opened. Her hands were clenched at her sides, her eyes cast downward.

"I understand," she said quietly. He nodded, standing up to leave. "Wait!" she said, grabbing his sleeve. He turned, his head cocked to the side. "Who is it that will be staying with me? When you're gone, I mean."

At this, Clive turned to face her completely, and Flora felt a bit uneasy at the look on his face.

"Why, Dimitri Allen, of course," he said, resisting the urge to snicker at her expression. "Don't worry," he amended. "I'm sure you two will get along smashingly."

Flora gulped.

* * *

><p>Clive had done his best to stay at home during the month Flora had now stayed with him, but it wasn't avoidable. Things had dramatically improved between them, but he could tell she was still reserved and guarded. But, they no longer had to suffer through long, silent meals, or the awkward moments when they'd run into each other. She refused to let him in all the way, though.<p>

_"What are we?" he'd asked looking up at her from his spot on the couch. His feet rested in her lap, her book propped on his feet. She looked up, an expression of puzzlement on her pretty features._

_"What are we? What do you mean?"_

_"Us," he replied. "You and I. What would you call us?"_

_She leant back, seeming to think over his question. "I think… I think we're almost friends," she said eventually._

_"Friends," he repeated. "Just friends?"_

_"Just friends," she said firmly, returning back to her book._

He'd left for the office that morning, feeling oddly like a husband going to work when Flora walked with him to the door, saying her goodbyes. He was quite surprised at how much he liked that idea.

Clive wasn't sure how he'd gotten Dimitri to agree, but the man had, and he'd arrived soon after he'd left.

* * *

><p>Flora watched nervously as the man situated himself on the couch, engrossed in a book. He hadn't said a word to her, and had only acknowledged her with a nod on his arrival. She took the opportunity to study him. He had long, gray hair (she was momentarily plagued with the strongest urge to ask if she could play with it; she imagined it would be good fun, and it took a lot of effort not to) and dull blue eyes.<p>

_Nothing could compare to Clive's eyes, _she thought fondly, then blushed as she realized what she'd said.

Going back to observing him, she saw he dressed very neatly, and was tall. He looked very frail, but somehow strong at the same time, in a way that Flora didn't even know was possible. He was a slim man, though not as much as Clive or herself.

"Are you going to stand there gawking much longer, Miss Reinhold?" a calm, low voice came.

She jumped, her cheeks flaming. "O-er, I'm sorry, Mr. Allen!"

He waved her apology away. "No need for that. Dimitri's fine."

She took the invitation and sat on the armchair next to him. "This is all a bit strange, isn't it?" At his raised eyebrow, she rushed to explain. "For me, I mean. I didn't expect to know so many kil–" she cut herself off, mortified at her stupidity.

"Killers, Miss Reinhold," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. Catching her expression, he said, "Oh, no need to be embarrassed about it. It's true."

"You're not at all what I imagined," she murmured, her eyes cast to the floor.

He chucked dryly. "So you think of me often, eh? Don't tell Clive, he's already a jealous bastard."

At this, her eyes snapped up to meet his, and she felt another hot blush come on. "Oh no! That's not what I meant at all!" she exclaimed.

He gave her a sympathetic look. "No need to work yourself up. I know what you meant." He paused, looking straight at her. "You thought we'd be in trench coats, guns hidden in every pocket, roughing up every guy we met?" She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "No, you did, didn't you?"

She looked away. "…Yes," she mumbled.

He leant back, looking a bit smug. "Well, we can be quite the gentleman, as you've seen, I'm sure."

He went back to his book, leaving Flora wondering if all extortionists were this good at making her flustered.

* * *

><p>Over the next few months, Clive had had to leave on several occasions, and apparently Dimitri and Flora had hit it off. He'd come home one day to find them sitting over cups of tea, and she was laughing at something he'd said.<p>

When she went into the kitchen, Clive walked over to Dimitri.

"Has she under your charms, too?" he asked jokingly, laying his coat on the couch.

"I think our dear Flora has a thing for older men," Dimitri said with a soft chuckle.

"Ah. I'll have some competition for her affections, then."

Dimitri shook his head. "You'd have competition if I was decades younger and she wasn't already madly in love with you."

Clive futilely tried to beat down the rush of hope he felt at his friend's words. "She said she just wants to be friends, if that."

"You two are both idiots. She said the exact same thing to me an hour ago," he said with a roll of his eyes. "So, go confess your undying love to each other, and live happily ever after so I can stop listening to you gripe about how much you wish you were with each other. But, it is much better listening to Flora."

At Clive's questioning look, he replied with a sly smile. "She bakes me sweets," he said, and as if on cue, Flora appeared with a loaded tea tray.

Clive burst out into laughter, Flora looked at him in confusion, and Dimitri just shook his head, motioning for her to come over. She tutted when she saw his coat lying about, handing it to him. "Clive," she scolded. "How many times have I told you to hang up your things? Honestly, I don't know what you would do without me!"

The two men watched on in amusement as she busied herself with neatening the house, until Clive caught Dimitri's knowing look. The soft smile that had unknowingly made its way to Clive's face dropped instantly, replaced with a scowl at the older man's observation skills.

A loud knock rang through the flat, and Clive got up to answer it. "That's probably Mrs. Hansen with the rest of Flora's things," he said. The kind old lady had gotten most of Flora's things within a week, but Clive and his paranoia kept worrying Flora wouldn't have enough clothes, and had put in several extra orders. Thus, many more packages had arrived throughout the months.

She bustled in with an armful of packages, pinching Clive's cheek and saying how much better he looked.

"Well, here you are dearie," she said, handing him boxes. "Would you like to check everything, just to make sure?" she asked kindly.

Clive shrugged, but opened the first box, and was stunned into silence. When he finally found his voice he said very quietly, "Mrs. Hansen… What's this?" he asked.

"Well, you never specified what you wanted, and she's such a pretty young thing, so I took the liberty of giving you two a little something extra, if you know what I mean," she explained with a conspiratorial wink.

At that moment, Flora had just walked back in time to see Clive gingerly hold up a pair of very lacy knickers. Finally noticing Flora, he dropped the box, trying his hardest to ignore Flora's shocked expression and the fact that Dimitri was actually laughing.

And for the first time in God knows how long, Clive found himself blushing.

**A/N: I've actually had most this typed up, but the little details took much longer. And I have a crazy amount of homework, so.**

_Thank you to: **SeventhSunset, Alice-pyon, Ethera, and ItalianPrincess92 **for your kind words. I really appreciate it! ^_^_

**However, this brings me to a very important question I have for you all:**_ What is the proper review-reply etiquette? _

**How would you like me to respond to reviews? I used to reply individually, but found it made things awkward. I mean, when do you stop replying, if they respond to your thank-you? **

**So, what do you think I should do? I think it's very important to thank and acknowledge the people who reviewed, but I don't want to make things awkward, you know? **

**I'd love to hear what you think!**


	14. Chapter 14

_"Tell me something," he whispers, pushing a curl away from her face. She leans into his had, a soft smile on her face, the smile she saves just for him. "Something you've never told anyone else before."_

_It's a command, and who is she not to obey? "I lo–"_

Clive bolted upright in his bed, heart thundering loudly. His sheets are a tangled mess, more of them covering the floor than him. He sighed, getting out of bed. It was strange. He hadn't had dreamt in God knows how long, and that odd sensation of a dream, that couldn't really be described with words, unnerved him.

He walked out into the living room towards the large doors that opened out to a balcony. It was a bit chilly, the nighttime air combined with the wind bit at his bare arms, but he payed it no heed. His mind was too occupied.

With Flora. She filled his thoughts near constantly. Her smiles, her laughter, and on the rare occasion her anger, was all imprinted in his mind. He wanted, no, _needed _to memorize every detail of her.

Because, once she was safe, she'd have no reason to see him. She'd fade out of his life, and become nothing but a half-remembered dream, hazy and distorted. He couldn't let her memory be altered in any way; he had to remember her as she truly was.

* * *

><p>Flora woke when she heard the sound of the door opening, and she was instantly awake once she remembered she was in Clive's flat, and he was a notorious criminal, and apparently someone was out for her.<p>

She crept out of her room, peeking around the wall that hid the living room. The balcony door was open, the sheer curtains used to cover it blew gently with the wind. She could see a darkened figure leaning against the railing, the glow of a lit cigarette visible. The way the silhouette was positioned, the stance and everything, she could tell it was Clive. Flora smiled softly.

Stepping out, the cement cold against her bare feet, she reached out and touched his shoulder.

Clive whirled around in surprise_, _his hand shooting up to grab hers in a tight grip. The cigarette fell, embers flying as it disappeared across the edge. His eyes flashed dangerously, until he saw who it was.

"Dammit, Flora," he said tightly, but he visibly relaxed. "Don't you ever do that."

She nodded, eyes wide. He let her hands go, shooting her an apologetic glance as she rubbed her wrists. She moved up so she was standing right next to him, looking out across the night sky. He took her appearance in; her hair down in loose curls, and she was wearing a light-colored nightgown trimmed with lots of lace. (Evidently, Mrs. Hansen was quite fond of that material, and used it in abundance on Flora's clothes. Not that Flora minded. Neither did Clive, for that matter.)

They stood in silence for a while, until Flora spoke. "I didn't know you smoked," she said.

He glanced at her as he answered. "Only when I'm stressed, nowadays. It used to be a lot worse," he said, his tone a bit defensive. She wasn't meant to catch him, she wouldn't understand.

But she just nodded. "You've been working too much, Clive," she said with concern.

He just ignored her remark, instead asking her a question that had been worrying him for many nights now. "Why do you stay here? It's been months, but you're still here."

She blinked, her face suddenly guarded and her eyes wary. "That's a stupid question," she said, her tone sharp. "You said it yourself; it's for my safety. Isn't it?"

"I know what I said, but you were so against it in the beginning, I thought you'd jump at the chance to leave."

"So you're offering one, then?" she retorted, refusing to make eye contact.

"You'd want one?" he countered. Clive felt a sinking feeling as she didn't respond. "You would. You want to leave," he said with finality.

She continued to gaze at the sky, the stars reflecting in her eyes. "I didn't say that," she began, but he cut her off.

"You might as well have!" he said with annoyance.

She whirled around, glaring at him. "What is this even about? You ask me why I'm staying here, then practically tell me you want me to leave! Just what do you want, Clive? What do you want me to say?"

He turned away, feeling like a complete arse. Why did he even bring it up? "I don't want you to leave," he said quietly.

"Why?" she asked. If he was going to ask pointless, uncomfortable questions, then so would she.

"Because… I–" he floundered, struggling for words. He was never good at that whole 'expressing feelings and emotion' type of thing.

Flora rolled her eyes, about to tell him not to worry about it, when she felt a pair of soft lips against hers. It was a gentle, sweet kiss, something she wouldn't have expected Clive to be capable of.

Then he withdrew from her, his usual suave demeanor was back, a cocky expression on his face. "Goodnight, love," he said as he turned and went back inside, without so much as a glance behind him.

**A/N: Bah I'm sorry for the shortness and lateness of this chapter. School's been killing me, but guess what? It snowed, and we have today off. **

**Also also also, I have finally made my New Year's resolution for 2012: To be a _Boss Bitch_. Oh yes.**

_Super big thank you to: **Ethera, dreamingleaf7, Boot-chan, ItalianPrincess92, forgetmenotflowers, and Seventh Sunset **for all of your reviews. I love hearing what you think!_

**Hokay, one more thing: I have a small contest of sorts planned for the next chapter. There will be a cleverly hidden reference (not really) to something in the next chapter. To whoever finds the reference first, gets their very own drabble! (very lame, I know, I'm sorry)**

**So yeah, if you 'win' you can tell me what you'd like in a story and I'll write one for you? **

**I'm sorry it's a really stupid idea I know just–**


	15. Chapter 15

**Alright, dearies, it's time for the reference contest! If you have no idea what I'm talking about, refer to last chapter's note, please. Be thinking about what stories you'd like, and good luck!**

* * *

><p>They were full of little routines, Flora and Clive, and this particular one would just be added to the list. Nearly every night, Clive would go out to the balcony, soon joined by Flora. Sometimes he'd smoke, and Flora would tell him he's working too hard, and sometimes he wouldn't. They'd both just stare out into the darkened sky, watching lights flick off and street lamps glow. They never spoke, save for when it got too cold for them. Then, Clive would press a kiss against her lips, and murmur a goodnight.<p>

It was another shift in their relationship, but neither wanted to define what they now were. For Clive, he wasn't actually sure what he wanted from Flora. He knew he enjoyed spending time with her, and thought her very pretty, but he had no clue as to what Flora felt for him (what did he even feel for her?). For Flora, she was too afraid to admit just how much she liked Clive, and she had no idea if she was just another game to him.

And, of course, she couldn't exactly ignore the fact that he was London's best extortionist, and had most likely taken part in some highly illegal things. But she herself wasn't sinless, and unlike Clive, her childhood thereafter the war had been pleasant enough. She hadn't been forced to choose between starving and consorting with criminals; she didn't have an excuse for her selfishness. Did that make her worse than Clive?

Both didn't want to think too much about it, in case they unearthed something they may not like, so they didn't delve any deeper. He'd kiss her, she'd let him; he'd chase, she'd give in. She almost hated the amount of control he had over her, without even really trying. How could she be so affected by him?

* * *

><p>It had been six months since Flora had first come to stay at Clive's, and her results from school had come back. She'd done exceptionally well, the tutors Clive had brought in and all those long study sessions had payed off. Clive had been so proud of her, and his praise made Flora beam.<p>

So, those two things had been a good reason for them to celebrate, and Clive harbored a secret hope that things would change once more for them, that they'd become just a little bit closer.

But of course, Dimitri had gotten wind of their plans, and had insisted he accompany them. After all, the older man had reasoned, he too was proud of their little Flora and it would be his treat. Clive didn't want to argue with the man, and gave in albeit reluctantly.

Dimitri arrived to pick them up, and somehow Clive had wound up in the back seat, glaring daggers at his mentor. The man was chatting away with Flora, who was enraptured by tales of his travels, and had an arm casually draped across her seat. Thus, he was successfully blocking Clive from any view of the girl, and he knew that every touch was driving Clive mad.

Clive knew the feelings between Dimitri and Flora were completely platonic, but he couldn't help the jealousy that ate away at him. So he was currently sulking in the back seat, his brow furrowed.

He had planned on ignoring the two, until he heard a snippet of their conversation.

"You were right, Dimitri!" Flora said, a hint of disbelief in her voice.

Dimitri chuckled. "I know I was. Didn't I tell you he'd pout?"

Clive snapped upwards as he realized what they were talking about, pushing Dimitri's arm out of the way and sticking his head between the seats.

"I was most certainly _not _pouting, Mr. Allen," he said slowly, enunciating each word.

Flora turned to him, a look of mock-sympathy on her face and amusement shining in her eyes. "It's okay, Clive. I won't tell anybody you were being incredibly childish and that you actually _sulked _because–"

"I _am not jealous_!" Clive nearly yelled, then frowned at the smirks on both of their faces. "What?" he asked, eyes narrowing.

Flora was looking at him with a smug expression; it was a rare occurrence that she one-upped Clive on anything. "I was going to say because you had to sit in the back seat, but apparently I was wrong," she said, and her smile widened as she saw the look of realization on his face.

_Oh shit, _he thought with a mixture of bitterness and amusement, but he had grudgingly acknowledged her win with a nod. She smiled and settled back into the seat, asking where they were going.

Clive felt a soft smile tug at his lips, missing the curious look Dimitri had given him.

* * *

><p>All three were stuffed, having eaten from one of London's best restaurants, and were more than ready to head back to Clive's comfortable flat. While Flora was in the restroom, Dimitri took the opportunity to speak with Clive.<p>

"Nothing has happened for months now, Clive. Don't you think she should be able to go back to her life?"

Clive shot him a look of annoyance. "So you'd want me to take the chance that they'll find her? What if this is exactly what they want, Dimitri? For us to become lenient and let our guard down, and then act?"

Dimitri leant back, arms crossed and said, "Letting your guard down, Clive? Judging from the large tip that man just gave the waiter, and how that very same waiter is staying right by our table, I'd say your guard is down."

Clive nearly whirled around to see for himself, but knew that would arouse too much suspicion. "Shit. _Shit. _We have to get Flora. We have to get out of here."

Dimitri was already putting on his coat, and Clive quickly did the same. To any outsiders, the pair looked as causal as ever, just two friends leaving after a night out. Clive stopped a young waitress, and a few words murmured in her ear breathily, and the woman had agreed to find Flora and sneak her out the back door. As the woman went, Clive stuck his hand in his pocket and withdrew the slip of paper the woman had put there, and found an address and phone number on it.

Holding up the paper to Dimitri, who just rolled his eyes and told Clive to keep it in his pants, to which Clive's smirk fell off his face, replaced by a scowl.

Flora met them behind the restaurant, about to pepper them with questions, until she saw their expressions. She closed her mouth and followed them, but the curious look didn't leave her face.

She listened as the two men spoke in low, hushed tones. She knew they were careful to mask their faces of emotion, but she could see the worry and anxiousness in their eyes.

"Maybe we should go back to the flat. There's a chance that they didn't find it, and they obviously wouldn't expect it," Dimitri suggested, but Clive shook his head.

"No. The flat has probably been ransacked already. We don't know how long they've been tailing us, so we should head to the offices," he said, and Dimitri nodded in agreement.

When they pulled into the lot of a large, imposing building, Flora finally spoke up. "Which offices did you say we were going to?" she asked a bit timidly.

Clive turned around to look at her, a grim expression on his face.

"Welcome to Dove and Allen Enterprises, Flora."

* * *

><p>The trio made up of Dove, Allen, and an unknown, very young looking girl in a frilly red dress who was trailing behind the two men, made for a rather odd sight to the employees that evening. The girl (why was there a bloody girl walking around?) looked so small and lost, that it seemed strange no one was holding her hand and guiding her through. They observed as a man (stupid Anderson, what was he thinking?) whistled as the girl walked by. The girl seemed unfazed, but both Dove <em>and <em>Allen glared at Anderson, who shrank back at their scrutiny.

Dove put his arm around her waist, moving faster to his office while Allen followed after giving one last icy glare to poor Anderson. The fact that this girl was so protected and cared for (because wasn't it just obvious she was?) by not just one, but two of the world's smartest, and more notably, the coldest criminals in the world, just added to the mystery.

Who was this girl? (that's why they had research teams)

* * *

><p>"Okay, okay, I need to think." Clive paced back and forth in his office, Flora looking on in bemusement; Dimitri with a bored expression on his face.<p>

"They were following us, for days, weeks maybe, so that means whoever _R.M. _is, he's well connected. Probably spies and regular people he bought off, so we know he has money. Now, that leaves _why _he did it in the first place," Clive said.

Flora blinked. "How on earth did he get all that?" she asked with wonder.

Dimitri just shrugged, as if this was just typical Clive. "He didn't become so successful for nothing, dear. He's an observant, intelligent man." _And strung out on caffeine most times, _he thought, but chose not to divulge that particular bit of information to Flora. Though, she probably already knew.

Suddenly, Clive whirled around, striding out of the room. "I need my top researcher here right now," he called out, and in moments a man had appeared.

"Sir?"

"I need all the information possible on a man with the initials 'R.M.' He's rich, probably been in the business a long time. Find any articles around the time Sterling and his company went down. I have a feeling it's connected."

With a curt nod, the man left.

Clive turned back around. "Dimitri! Find me that letter he sent, and bring Flora out here."

Dimitri leaned against the doorway, letter in tow. Clive snatched it, quickly scanning the contents. He shoved it back to Dimitri. "Okay. _Every action has a consequence. _That was right after Sterling got hit. So, assuming that's the action I took…"

His eyes widened. "Where'd the researcher go?"

The man soon came back, holding a stack of documents and files in his hands. Clive strode over, taking a few files and flipped through them. Something caught his eye, and he grabbed the article, reading it quickly.

"Aha! Look! Here, it says Sterling made a deal with a company a few months before the downfall of his own. Apparently, he said he had invested in something, and it would bring a huge profit for them all." He drew in a sharp breath as he understood.

"What? What is it, Clive?" Dimitri asked.

"It was me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was the deal."

Dimitri nodded, understanding. "You were the competiton. Take you out, they have a chance again. But you saw Sterling wasn't worth our time–"

"He knew too much, he became a deadman. That made whoever was on the other end of the deal take a big hit financially," Clive finished.

"And their reputation," Flora added, and both men and the surrounding employees turned to look at her in surprise. "What?" she said defensively. "I _was _listening, you know."

Clive managed to give her one of his small half-smiles. "Right you are, love. So, how do you connect to this– Ah," he said. "I see. You were the message to me. He knew how important you were to me, and he was going to use you to get rid of me. But his men were too late, I got there in time."

Flora looked from him to Dimitri, a look of bewilderment on her face. Clive made connections so fast, she could barely comprehend anything he'd said.

Dimitri shook his head at Clive. "No. You know that's not enough."

Clive nodded. "She wasn't just a message. They knew about her before." He whirled on her, gripping her shoulders and looking into her eyes. "I need you to think of any connections–"

"I don't know these men at all!"

He gripped her shoulders tighter. "Think! There must be something. You must know."

She shrugged his hands off of her, looking at him angrily. "I'm sorry, but I really don't know."

Anderson came in at that moment, holding another box of files. "What if it was just to scare you into giving up?" he suggested.

Clive gave him a withering look. "Anderson, stop talking. You're lowering the IQ of everyone in the building."

"I just thought–"

"Shut up! Everybody shut up! I need to think," Clive said, pacing around frantically. "Anderson, turn the other way. I can't think if I see your face."

"What?"

Dimitri turned to the man. "Anderson, just do it."

Anderson did.

Suddenly, Clive stopped in his tracks. "_Oh. _Oh, that's clever."

Before anyone could ask for clarification, he'd already disappeared into the storage room where all the files were kept. He appeared moments later, carrying a single file. He opened it, picked out an article and threw it on the table.

"That," he said, pointing to the paper. "That is an article from fifteen years ago."

He moved aside, and Dimitri and Flora cautiously filled the space. Dimitri's eyes widened and Flora gasped in shock as they took in the article's headline.

"_Robert Montgomery gets maximum sentence thanks to Prosecutor Reinhold, who argued the case fantastically. It has been reported that Reinhold had enough evidence to shut down nearly the entire extortion and infringement businesses in London," _Dimitri read aloud.

Clive turned to Flora. "Your father was the prosecutor on that case. This man, Montgomery, gets out years later and finally starts his company back up. He makes a deal, but he didn't factor in me. He loses millions. He wants that back. So, he sees the opportunity to get back at Reinhold through his daughter, _and _take me out in the process," Clive explained.

"So how do we stop him? He won't stop until he gets the money," Flora pointed out.

"We have to find him, first of all," he said, then turned around to face Dimitri, a confused expression on his face. "How do we find him?"

Dimitri found a pen and paper, and wrote something down in his distinctive bold script. He handed the paper to Clive, who frowned when he saw the contents.

"An address. Dimitri," he began, folding the paper and tucking it into his pocket. "Do you know this man?"

The man's face was expressionless, giving nothing away. "I do."

Clive's frown grew. "How?"

Dimitri only hesitated for a second before he answered. In his ever calm low voice, he said, "I was his right-hand man."

**A/N: Hoshit, Dimitri you badass! **

**So, who saw that reference? Please tell me you guys did. I will be so sad if you don't get it. And guess what? We had another snow day today, and one tomorrow! Snow storms are the bomb.**

_**A big thank you to:** **Alice-pyon (**Aww, thank you for understanding! I'm thrilled you like it, and I really enjoy getting your reviews!**), ItalianPrincess92 (**That is awesome. **You **are awesome.**), Boot-chan (**This doesn't have to do with anything, but I have to say it. I love your name. Boooot-chaaan! ^_^**), and SoapyWhisk (**I mean a reference as in, you know, a reference to something. Nevertheless, thanks for the review**) for being awesome people.**_

**Etheraaaa. Where are you, dear? I miss your reviews!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Alright everyone! We have a winner for the reference contest: I'mtheDoctor'sdaughter. It was from _Sherlock_, which is just a fantastic show and I highly recommend you watch it. But, as I haven't heard from them, the second person to win will get the story: Ethera! Congratulations, dear.**

* * *

><p>The entire floor was silent in the shock of Dimitri's statement.<p>

"Dimitri…" Clive said, eyes wide. He didn't know how he was supposed to deal with this new information. For as long as he could remember, he and Dimitri had been a team, and a damn good one at that. He would never admit to it (he was already getting odd looks from his protectiveness of Flora) but Clive had always thought that he was the exception to Dimitri's coldness to everyone, and the man was his exception to his own. But now, the man he'd known most of his life was involved with the very same man who tried to take his Flora, and do away with him? And not just some low level employee, oh no, he was his bloody _right-hand man. _Clive knew you had to trust a man to give them that position, so obviously Dimitri knew Montgomery well.

Flora, noticing Clive's unease, put a comforting hand on his arm. She turned to Dimitri.

"I think you ought to explain, Mr. Allen," she said firmly.

Dimitri nodded, following her into Clive's private office.

Clive slumped onto the couch, and Flora sat next to him. His arm was wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, but neither seemed to notice; as if it was done subconsciously.

"We went to school together," he began. "Both of us were studying law, but he was lazy, and dropped out of the classes. He urged me to do the same, and– he'd always had a certain amount of influence on me– and at one point I considered it. But in the end, I finished while he planned out projects. He was a good business man– at least, he was. When I finished my degree, I had trouble finding work."

Clive let out a deep breath, and Flora looked at him with concern before turning back to Dimitri. She had grown to care for the man dearly, but the fact that he had been so close to the man who'd ordered her kidnapping, _and _the same man her father had worked so hard to put behind bars, was making her doubt herself and her judgement.

What did she really know about these men? They seemed to know everything about her, and she certainly felt privileged to be able to be as close as she was to them, but she couldn't help but feel her trust and confidence waver a bit.

She shook her thoughts away as Dimitri continued.

"It started with small things, threats and blackmail to out-of-the-way companies. Then we grew greedy, and it got bigger and bigger and just kept growing."

_Gosh, _Flora thought. _Did all of these mobsters have such sad background stories?_

"And he got careless. By the time he was caught, I had already made plans to start my own business; I had the funds and reputation. Then a few months later, I met Clive."

"Wait," Flora said. "I thought Clive was the head of this company."

"He is, now. I used to be, but Clive had always been a business man. His ideas and innovation is what really made us as successful as we are today," Dimitri said, a hint of pride in his voice.

Clive, who had been silent the entire time, stood up. Noticing Dimitri and Flora looking at him carefully, he gave them a weak smile, reassuring no one, but they let it go.

"We'll spend the day researching Montgomery. I want to know everything; his routines, his employees, his favorite food. Then, we'll figure out how we take him down."

He walked towards the door, stumbling a bit and checked his watch. It was nearly seven o'clock in the morning, and he was honestly surprised he'd stayed awake this long. He turned back to his office, looking at Flora, whose eyes were already starting to close, and Dimitri, who looked surprisingly calm, considering the events of the past night.

He needed to keep them safe. Not just Flora and Dimitri, but his employees as well. Though he kept up a frosty front with them, they knew Clive was a good boss, and they were filled with the strongest sense of loyalty towards him and the company.

But he could worry about that later. First, he needed a coffee.

* * *

><p>It turns out most of the employees had gone home sometime during the night, and so Clive had to wait much longer for his morning coffee. Flora had heard him grumbling and asked why he didn't just make it himself, and responded by giving her a withering look and said it wasn't his job to make the coffee.<p>

She'd given up then, and he sulked on the couch until they heard someone else enter.

"Oh good," Clive drawled, not moving from the position he'd taken up on the couch. "Whoever you are, go get me a coffee."

"Why do I have to do it?" came the whiny, snide voice of one Mr. Anderson.

Clive turned to look over his shoulder, frowning at the man. "Bother. Why are you here? Where are the others?"

"Coming soon. There's Matthew now," he said as he walked over to his desk.

"Tell him to get me a coffee," Clive said, getting up to call out the door.

"Get Anderson to do it, Dove. I've got to get started on those reports," Matthew said.

"Good. See, Anderson? Some people actually do work around here. Anyways, this brings us back to the beginning, doesn't it? I'll take it black, then."

"I can't believe you're the head of the firm when you're so lazy! You can't even get your own–"

"Fuck!" he said, slamming his hands on the nearest desk, making them jump. "Bloody hell! You're forgetting who owns this place– Why do I even keep you around? Someone go kill him, please. I'm getting a headache."

At that moment, Clive felt a gentle hand on his arm, and turned to see Flora. She was looking at him with a mixture of concern (he'd been getting a lot of that from her as of late) and amusement.

"Don't kill Anderson, dear," she said. While the man was irritating, she didn't think they needed to go so far. After all, if Anderson was gone, there would be no one to make fun of, and that would certainly make things boring.

"Stupid git deserves it," he muttered, oblivious to the surprised looks his employees were giving him. Who was this girl? She was obviously close to Dove, and that alone was strange.

"I'll make you coffee if you promise not to," she coaxed, taking his arm and guiding him back to his office.

"Get the coffee, then we'll see," he countered, flopping back onto his couch, as Dimitri snorted at his behavior, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'melodramatic attention-whore.'

Flora shrugged, realizing it was the best she'd get, went to go ask Matthew where the kitchenette was. As he helped her find everything, she asked a bit hesitantly, "Clive– he wasn't serious when he said that earlier, was he? About Anderson, I mean."

"Oh no, Miss. Mr. Dove was just a bit put-out from the lack of caffeine. It happens occasionally, when one of the new guys forget to put the coffee maker on. We've learned to deal with it," he explained.

"He has a terrible dependency on it, doesn't he?" she remarked as she filled the cups.

"Well, we all much rather prefer him dependent on that than anything stronger, if you know what I mean," he said, a slight frown on his face.

"I don't think we have to worry about that," she said, smiling fondly. "Not anymore."

Matthew turned to her then. "We all care about him, Miss. He's a brilliant man, and with you around, I reckon he's becoming a good man. I've never seen him as happy as he is now."

She hid her surprise at his words, instead smiling at the man. "Thank you, Matthew. I'm glad to hear he has someone to look out for him," she said, turning to leave.

"Miss," he said, grabbing her arm. "Please, help him. He can't do it on his own. He'll need you," he said.

"I-I'll try," she managed to say. He gave her a quick nod and left.

* * *

><p>A sufficient amount of caffeine was now in his system, and Clive was at the top of his game. He worked with Matthew, the new head of the Surveillance and Research Department, and even Clive was disturbed at what they found. Montgomery was ruthless and powerful, even after years in prison. He was notorious as a cruel, sadistic man, and Clive was shocked that Dimitri had once been friends with him.<p>

Flora and Dimitri were looking through the dusty boxes in the back of the storage room, trying to find anything else that could help them. Clive had told them to focus on the geography of the company, which left Flora rather confused.

"He means for us to find out things about where Montgomery had decided to have his headquarters. The area could tell us something; where he's comfortable, what kinds of people is in his employment. It would also help us learn things about his lifestyle," he explained.

"Oh," she said. Then, a few minutes later, "Why do you need to learn that?"

Ever patient, he explained. "We need anything that will help us get to him."

"Oh."

A few minutes later, "Don't you already know him?"

Suppressing an exasperated sigh, he said, "Flora dear, I'd love a cup of tea. Why don't you get Matthew to take you to that bakery you liked, and bring something for tea. I'm sure Clive would like a break, too."

He almost felt guilty when she gave him a bright smile. "Okay!" she chirped, then scampered up to find Matthew. He let out a sigh of relief as he and Clive saw her out, feeling oddly as though he had tricked a small child.

Clive clapped him on the shoulder. "Well done, my good man. It was getting rather awkward having her around here, wasn't it?"

* * *

><p>"Oh thank you, Matthew," Flora said as he held the door open for her. "You're such a dear."<p>

He was starting to like the young girl; she reminded him of his sister an awful lot. "It's not a problem, Miss."

She sighed as she examined the selection of cakes and pastries in the display. "I'm sorry you had to be dragged along for this," she said, and she snorted at the surprised look he gave her. "What? I know they did that to get me out of the building. They'll be digging up the real dirt on that man, now that I'm gone."

He looked even more surprised.

"Oh, not you too," she said exasperatedly. "I don't know why you all think I'm stupid, I'm not, you know."

"We don't think that, Miss," he said, trying to amend things. "It's just that we, er, maybe underesti–"

But she just waved his explanations away, saying that sometimes it could be rather helpful.

* * *

><p>When tea had been drunk, and everyone had already left for the night, Clive had decided they needed to make a plan.<p>

"We all agree that we need to get rid of Montgomery, yeah?"

They all nodded from their respective seats; Dimitri in the old wing chair, Clive and Flora sharing the couch (Dimitri noted this fact, as Clive never shared 'his' couch with anyone).

"We'll have to do it from the inside; Robert's too careful to let outsiders get to him," Dimitri put in, ignoring Clive's frown at his use of Montgomery's first name.

"Right. So we'll have to get someone inside the company, someone who can pose as someone close to him."

"It can't be one of our boys, then," Dimitri said, a hint of frustration in his voice. "Rob– Montgomery won't let just anybody in his inner circle."

Flora cleared her throat. "I think I can help with that."

Both men turned to her, surprise evident on their faces.

"How?" Clive asked.

"He… he likes young girls. Specifically, brunettes," she said.

**A/N: Flora, you silly girl! What are you planning?**

**I just want to say a huge thank you to all who participated in my silly reference contest (I think you guys did it to humor me, but thank you anyways. It made me happy) You guys had some great guesses!**

**_So, I believe a huge thank you is in order to: Ethera (_**_You need to start watching Downton soon, okay?**), Alice-pyon (**You're so encouraging! Thank you so much**), I'mtheDoctor'sdaughter (**I'm so glad you got the reference, and I'm happy you like the story!**)****, FranziskavonKarmaWhippedYou (**Love the name! I'm very glad you reviewed**), ztanchi (**Wow! Thanks for the huge compliment!**), dreamingleaf7 (**Hey man, don't hate on Anderson. That's Clive's job!^_~**)** **Boot-chan (**Doctor Who is amazing! When I first started watching, I refused to watch anyone but the Tenth Doctor**), Seventh Sunset (**I haven't seen either of those movies. But thanks for the reviews! It made me smile.**), and ItalianPrincess92 (**Oh, I don't even know who Robert Montgomery is! Thank you for the review!**) You guys are fabulous!**_

**So yeah. I've had the entire week off due to snow, but with school starting up again, updates will probably be once a week again. :( But I hope you guys will wait around for them! ^_^**


	17. Chapter 17

"No," Clive said tightly, his body rigid.

Flora turned to him with pleading eyes. "Please, Clive. I know I can help!"

"_No.__" _

"No?" she huffed. "I'm not exactly looking for your permission–"

He whirled at her then, his eyes glinting dangerously. "Seeing as it's my operation, then yes, you would."

Dimitri spoke up then. "How did you know that bit of information, Flora?"

She glanced away, looking sheepish. "I had Matthew help me look through the files when you were on break." She looked back at them, her chin jutting out defiantly. "I don't care. I can do this. I can–"

"You used my employees to do your… your side investigations, when they were supposed to be working, and you go through classified information?" he said.

"Does it matter if it can help?" she said indifferently, shrugging her shoulders and standing up to leave.

His hand shot out, gripping her arm tightly and yanking her back. "Let go," she said, glaring at him.

"No," he said. Flora stopped her struggling at the tone of his voice. It hadn't raised a notch, but it had a cold intensity that was starting to scare her. He was furious.

"Clive," she began, trying to reason with him, but he wouldn't have it.

"What is wrong with you? What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" he said harshly. "Do you really think you could help? He's a fucking sadist, Flora! You think he'd let you get to him that easily? Trusting a poor little girl?"

"You did, didn't you?" she snapped back, then instantly regretted her words.

"Don't you ever, _ever, _compare me to him. _Ever_," he said, his voice low. He grabbed her, making her look at him. "You can't handle yourself. They'll eat you alive. Do you think I want to see you go through that?"

"I-I…" she floundered, struggling for words.

"Why would you even suggest to… to put yourself up as _bait_?"

"You're not the only one who can save people!" she blurted out. His eyes widened, then narrowed.

"Is that was this is about?" he seethed. "Straightening out the score?"

She didn't answer.

"If you're here out of guilt, get out. I don't need to be pitied." How could she do this? And he'd been a fool, thinking she was here for _him. _She felt obligated.

She wrenched her arm out of his grasp violently, and he noticed the tears welling in her eyes. "You stupid, stupid man! Do you really think I'm so shallow? I want to help because I _care _about _you_! Because I _lo_–" she cut herself off as a sob escaped her.

"Flora…"

"No," she said. "You don't get to be the good guy!" She was crying now, but couldn't bring herself to care. She turned back to him. "Did you really think that? That I was here out of guilt?"

"Love, you have to understand–"

"I understand enough. But you don't seem to understand me at all. How do you think I felt? Never knowing if I was just another game to you? I have no idea how you even feel about me now!" She gestured between the two of them. "I don't even know what _we _are!"

She no longer looked angry, just sad, and it gave Clive a terrible sinking feeling.

"I think I'll go now," she said quietly.

He didn't say anything as she brushed pass him and out the door.

* * *

><p>Dimitri had silently exited Clive's office as the two's argument got more heated, but had cautiously reentered when he heard things quiet down. But as soon as he reached for the door, it was thrown open, and Flora raced out, not even bothering to look up.<p>

He leant against the doorway; Clive was at the window, hands in his pocket.

"What did you do?"

"Fuck off," came the curt reply.

"If you let her go now, she won't be back, you know. She won't forgive you, this time."

He shrugged, feigning indifference. "So? I'm not exactly looking for forgiveness."

Dimitri gave him a frustrated sigh. "As much as it pains you to admit it, Clive, you need her. And she needs you, too."

"For what?" Clive had turned around now, his voice rising and his worry and distress leaked through. "What do we need each other for? We don't even know what we are!"

"She care–"

"I don't need anybody to care. I'm perfectly fine."

Dimitri waited patiently until Clive had calmed down a bit to speak again. "You know that isn't true."

Clive grew agitated again, turning on his mentor once more. "How would you know anything about that? You're just as fucked up as I am."

Dimitri frowned, then smirked. The boy seemed to have forgotten just who he was talking to. "Your hand is clenched, so hard the knuckled are white. A clear sign of distress."

"Dimi–"

"You started swearing again. Every since _she _came along you'd watched that, and only did it when you got upset," he continued. "And, most tellingly, the cabinet where you keep the hard stuff is slightly opened, and it wasn't an hour ago."

Clive scowled. He'd forgotten how perceptive Dimitri could be, picking up on the smallest of behavioral changes. He sighed, and seemed to deflate. "It's too late, now, anyways."

Dimitri shook his head. "If you wait any longer, it will be. But, I have a feeling that if you leave now, you just might have a chance," he said. He left the office, heading back to his own.

A moment later, he felt a smile tug on his lips when he heard the thudding of polished Italian leather shoes across the floor and down the stairs.

**A/N: Run, Clive, run!**

**I'm sorry! I can't believe it's been so long since I posted anything!**

**I really hated this chapter. It just wouldn't come out right, you know? Also because I know where I want this story to go, but it's in this weird transition phase right now so everything's off.**

**Well, here is a super huge thank you to: mizily, Seventh Sunset, Ethera, forgetmenotflowers, ItalianPrincess92, dreamingleaf7, and Boot-chan for being amazing people. You guys are seriously the best.**


	18. Chapter 18

Clive raced out of the building, wracking his brain to think of where Flora might have gone. She couldn't have gotten very far; so he'd have to check areas you could get to within five minutes. Flora was a creature of routine, he knew, so she'd go to a place she felt comfortable.

Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks as he realized. "Oh, stupid, stupid. Of course she'd be there," he muttered, looking around to find the quickest route.

Even though it had been months since he'd last been there, the little shop was quite easy to find. Sure enough, he could see her sitting at a table, absent-mindedly tracing her finger around the rim of her cup. She looked up and smiled weakly as a lanky man sat down next to her, placing his hand on hers comfortingly. Clive nearly stormed into the shop right then, but quickly reasoned with himself. It wouldn't help his case much if he made an arse of himself, so he opted to hang back in the shadows and observe before acting (he also needed to catch his breath, but that was beside the point).

Soon, a woman joined the table and made the man scoot over so she could sit by Flora. Clive moved closer so he could hear their conversation; while he wanted to make up with Flora, he could not have her compromising him or his company.

* * *

><p>"…poor baby!" Jenny said as she rubbed Flora's shoulders. Flora, who had been sitting in a near daze only caught the last part of her friend's sentence.<p>

"I'm fine, Jenny. Just tired, that's all," Flora said unconvincingly. She looked around, then asked, "Where'd Molly and Arthur go?"

Rupert spoke up, "Cooking up enough comfort food to feed an army and, most likely, plotting to murder whoever did this."

At this, Flora blushed but looked a bit pleased at having so many people who cared here. She knew it wasn't very fair of her to show up unannounced after months, nearly bawling, but she had good friends who accepted her without question, even if she wouldn't explain what had happened.

"Well, I'm so happy for you two!" Flora said, successfully changing the subject.

Jenny beamed and Rupert blushed. "I think we owe you a big thanks for that," he said.

"Oh no, Rupert, if you got Jenny Marrigan to agree to marriage, then you can do anything, really."

Jenny scoffed and hit Flora playfully, but she smiled softly at Rupert. "Really, though, Flora. I'm as happy as I've ever been, I think."

Flora felt a genuine smile flit across her features. Jenny continued, "And Flora, you _have _to be my maid of honor, okay?"

Rupert nodded his agreement. "You're our best friend."

* * *

><p>Any jealousy ("What jealousy?" Clive would say) Clive <em>might <em>have felt dissipated when he saw the woman and the man interact. Even before he heard any of their conversation, he could tell just how sickeningly _in love _those two were. Just the way they were sitting; inclined towards each other; gave it away, but their whole body language screamed it.

He wanted to scoff at them. Love. It was a good thing he didn't have room in his black little heart for that pointless emotion.

_Then why are you here? _

_Because I need to get Flora, _he answered, not even bothering to ponder where the question had come from in the first place. Even Clive himself did not want to delve too deep into his mind.

_If you don't love her, why bother?_

_Sex, _he thought immediately, but knew that wasn't it. Well, not entirely.

_Ah. You know that's not true. _

Clive chose not to respond.

_Alright, _the voice continued, _let's compare the two of you, shall we? She's a young girl with her whole life ahead of her, a pure, kind, soul. _You _are a junkie-turned-alcoholic who has murdered men just to save face._

_And if I don't love her, I shouldn't bother dragging her down with me, _Clive finished. The voice was good, he thought appreciatively. Well, most likely because it was his subconscious or whatever, but in any case.

_Exactly. So, do you love her? _

They were discussing wedding plans now, and Clive's jealousy returned. Because she had an entire life; friends, a job; that he didn't know about, and that killed him. He wanted to know everything, be apart of everything in her life.

He opened the door to the café.

* * *

><p>As he entered, the bell jingling cheerily, Flora looked up. What color had returned drained from her face, and she gasped with shock. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes; they'd known each other for nearly ten months now, and his presence still evoked the same response from her.<p>

"Really, love, did this come as such a surprise to you? And you said I'm the shallow one!" he said smoothly, strolling over to her table. Her friends looked over their shoulders simultaneously at the sound of his voice, confusion etched on their faces.

The girl – Jenny – he corrected, quickly turned to look back at Flora, who hadn't moved an inch. Seeing her friend's expression, she said, "Flora, do you know him?"

He stopped when he reached Flora's side of the table, hand stuck in his pocket. He cocked his head. "I thought we might go for a walk."

"I'd rather not," she said, not unkindly.

His head straightened along with his whole body, so he was looking down at her. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist. You and I need to have a little chat."

Jenny has always been the one to stand up for Flora, who had often been too timid and shy to do it herself, and her jaw twitched with annoyance at the man's arrogant attitude. He was acting as if he owned Flora!

"Hey!" she called out. "Leave her alone!" But she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Flora shaking her head slightly.

"It's fine," she said softly. "I should probably go with him, anyways."

After gathering her things and shooting her friends a weak smile, she followed Clive out the door. Jenny scowled when she saw the smug smirk on the man's face, and if Flora saw it she had chosen to ignore it. Or, she was just used to it.

But as the two left, and both Molly and Arthur had wandered out to the front of the store, Rupert voiced the question they all were wondering.

"Who the hell is he?"

* * *

><p>They walked in silence for nearly five blocks, until Clive cleared his throat.<p>

"I… I'm sorry," he said finally.

Flora nodded, a small smile on her face. She knew how hard it must have been for Clive to stoop so low as to actually apologize to someone, and she appreciated it.

"I know," she replied.

They continued to walk, until they reached the street corner, illuminated by the single lamp post. Over the past few months, a strange knotting and twisting feeling had been building up in Clive, as he and Flora grew closer. And now, it had come again even more until he felt so weighed down, as if lead had been placed in his chest. He rounded on Flora, who looked up in surprise at his change in demeanor.

He stepped forward to grab her arms, and she instinctively stepped back, but was stopped when her back met the hard surface of the brick building. She looked up at him with wide eyes, her body rigid in his grasp.

"I–I need you, Flora, goddamn, I _need _you," he said. He spoke as if he were voicing his own thoughts, half to himself instead of to her.

"Clive…" she managed to say, having been completely shocked at his words.

"I've never been with someone like you, never cared about someone like you before." One hand ran through his light hair, and his other tightened around the arm he was still holding.

"What are you saying?" she asked in bewilderment.

He shot her an annoyed look. "Isn't it obvious? I want there to be an us!" he all but shouted. "I want you to be mine and I want you to just stay with me, as you have, and I want–"

He was cut off as she closed the gap between them, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. She pulled back after an instant, carefully looking at him. Clive nearly growled, and captured her lips again, crashing them together in a fierce kiss. Her arms wound around his neck, pulling herself closer. His hands slid down from her arms to the curve of her waist, one hand snaking around to hold her closer and the other resting firmly on her hip.

A breathy moan escaped her, she could feel him smirk against her lips. He pulled away reluctantly, but still held her to him. Then, he stooped down again and kissed her very gently, then straightened. Flora knew it was a silent question, and she looked up at him fondly.

"Wasn't my answer obvious?" she asked teasingly.

"I think I may need another demonstration," Clive said with his trademark smirk before his lips found hers again.

**A/N: Yay! I liked this chapter a lot more than the last one.**

_**I have some big thank yous for: AltavaAngel (**I'm so glad you like it! Your review really made me smile!**), Seventh Sunset (**That's exactly what I was going for with their banter; I'm glad you found it that way!**), Alice-pyon (**You are such a sweetheart! Thanks!**), bookworm52 (**Amen, sister! I've had it with plotless copy-catters {excuse my childish terminology}**), EmiikaChuu (**Mwahaha yes! I've converted another! Ah– I mean, thank you so much!**), forgetmenotflowers, ItalianPrincess92 (**That is such a kind thing to say! Thank you!**), Boot-chan, Ethera, dreamingleaf7, and Kenzie-Onee-Chan for being truly amazing people.**_

**Expect the next chapter in a week! :)**

_*_**Also, I was thinking I might start a series of drabbles for these two, whenever I get an idea. Would you guys be interested in something like that?**


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